


Ringside

by i_got_these_words



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Language, M/M, Other, Past Domestic Violence, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 37,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_got_these_words/pseuds/i_got_these_words
Summary: Underground fighting AU. Think fight club meets my deepest, darkest kinks.





	1. Chapter 1

He remembers the first time he saw him. Not because it was love at first sight – the oldest and perhaps greatest model of self-deception humanity willingly subjected itself to. No.

It was the pull.

A magnetism that transcended physical attraction, because, really, there was only so much tangible beauty that could be appreciated at a hundred yards, under the stench of old sweat, fresh blood and cheap liquor, and in the company of two hundred plus brutes braying slurs and reverence – the two becoming one and the same. The flickering light strobes above were verging on expiration, but the crepuscular haze was just enough. He could make out just enough not to want to ever look away again.

The slick skin, so fair and so foreign in a crowd of labourers stewed in sun and scum. The glint of natural gold in his red hair, a circlet on a throne set alight.

Ah. And those legs.

Bare.

Sculpted.

Endless.

He’d always had a thing for legs. But all that was second, third and last to the way he  _danced_. Like the ring was his stage, the vulgar jeering a symphony and his battered, bruised opponent a bloody sacrifice.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time he saw him he was closer to the action. Close enough the occasional specks of sweat sprayed his face. He had been optimistic about which of the two fighters owed him a face peel. 

An eye-watering stench of fish market waste, emanating from the ogre standing in his blind spot. An ogre with a serious case of salivary overload, as evidenced by the distressed collar of his shoddy shirt. Every heckle and hoot was enunciated by a sleet of spittle. And it hit him then that he was not, in fact, close enough to be served sweat by the bruisers in the ring. He was not close enough at all. 

And that made him want to break someone’s face in.

He ended up missing the fight.

And the ogre ended up missing what was left of his teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

Perks.

That’s what you were entitled to when your older brother and his oldest friend owned the most notorious fight club outside of Chengdu. Said perks included a prime position that permitted his senses full access to the platter laid out in the centre of the pack.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to cash this privilege in before.

Forget sweat showers. He was close enough to the ring to feel the combined body heat of the two men squaring off. It felt like that one time when, as a preteen, he had snuck into a seedy sauna in downtown Guangzhou. Except here, here the humidity and heat were sustained by two human furnaces burning coals of fury, hunger and frenzy.

His decision to wear a form-fitting waistcoat was an unwise one.

Each huff, grunt, curse was a harmonic to his ears and the backdrop of ‘thump, crack, bang’ a chorus.

The smell of the testosterone-fuelled fight was so heady and thick every time he moistened his lips he could taste the undercurrents of terror and triumph.

And, as if he wasn’t warm enough, the visual in front of him hiked the dial on the thermostat and he knew his entire getup was a terrible mistake.

The way the cords in his neck tensed with anticipation. The quiver of his abs as he dodged a flying fist. The glossy canvas of his back, created by the rivulets of perspiration chasing each other down, over and across the terrain of toned trapezii.

And, finally, his undoing - the teasing flash of a multihued upper thigh tattoo exposed to the elements when the opposition attempted a tackle.

His fingers itched, tingled and throbbed with a need so primal only fools tried to name it.

He was no stranger to the underground fighting scene. Hell, his brother’s first joint in the Jialing District had been nothing short of a second home.

But this - this _high_  was alien.

He was so hooked.

So… turned on.

And so very, very fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

He remembers the fifth time he saw him. 

Not so much the fourth – a mélange of glory and gore interrupted by a poorly-timed call to “take care of the disturbance at the Peng’an branch, pronto”. “Disturbance” turned out to be disaster, turned out to be a bloodbath in progress. It had taken hours to coordinate the ceasefire and had contracted the weeklong cloak of foul-mood he’d donned in the aftermath. 

 _Liu Guan Shan._  

He’d dressed down for the occasion. Comfort in mind. A low-cut black tee with a faded MIT monogram. Soft, worn gym shorts. Converse _._  The muscle manning the nondescript entrance hadn’t recognised him. He got the impression that, had the establishment or its employees adhered to any decent standards or basic moral code, he would have been carded, or, had they been feeling especially generous, directed to the nearest gaming arcade. 

 _The Flying Fox._  

He watched him swallow a mouthguard. Snap his neck. Stretch his wings. Work his legs legs legs. 

The view was made crisper by the new overhead lights – a request his brother had rebuffed, so he’d gone right ahead and had the fixtures fitted himself. 

 _Age: 24_  

The crowd was as thankless and repulsive as usual – though uglier in the new refulgence. He could understand why the club attracted this type of clientele – candid, bare-knuckled violence between consenting adults, an indulgent referee, betting pools that beckoned both pathological and recreational gamblers. He just couldn’t understand why his brother tolerated them. Or how. 

The former lighting had probably helped. The bootleg bar certainly did. 

 _Height: 5’10”_  

The bell shrieked, once a benign background noise now a banshee demanding bloodshed. 

The two fighters faced off. 

 _Last weigh in: 175 lbs._  

A few warm-up jabs. 

A grazing blow. 

A flurry of strike-block-strike-strike. 

An overhand right. Grapple. Sprawl. A double elbow strike. 

 _Strengths: Taekwondo, speed, conditioning, ground game._  

He spared the other guy a glance – bigger, bald, bland. Boring. 

 _Strikes landed per minute: 5.2_  

Fragments of what he’d read in the file he’d swiped from his brother’s office hummed in his subconscious. He’d needed words, facts, a spiel. Something other than fiery hair, freckled skin and spinning kicks to narrate the story unfolding in front of him. 

 _Wins: 12_  

Both parties bled onto the canvas, a penance for being birthed. Their breaths panted prayers, rebounding off each other and dissipating into the ambient persiflage. Their perspiration a bond, exchanged and reciprocated, a liquescent interchange glinting in the brilliance. 

A front hand hook left him dazed. Unguarded. His opponent followed with a hip throw and the fox bounced on his back with a splintering crack that resounded through the club. He felt it ricochet through his own bones and he clenched his teeth against the reverberation. 

“Pound him!” The masses snarled. 

“Choke his lights out!” 

“Mount the fucker!” 

He’d never messed with his brother’s possessions before. Not with ill intent. But the red-haired contender made him feel things, crave things, want things. And he wanted to set the club and its constituents on fire. 

 _Losses: 36_  

In the midst of a sloppy ground and pound, the fox counterattacked with a jarring uppercut. Rolled away. Sprang up. Took a stance. 

They circled each other, blood and sweat swirling on the mat in symbols staging their spirit and barbarity. 

Clinch. 

A barter of dirty boxing. 

The other guy’s reaction time was slower. Sluggish. Taking more hits than he was giving. 

The fox leapt back. Threw his right leg to the side and then behind him, snapped it forward in a bent position as he sprang up on the toes of his left foot. A hush blanketed the turbulent heckling as the fox took flight – a bewitching pirouette that haemorrhaged into a tornado roundhouse kick. 

_Knock out._

The banshee belted out in gusto. 

The crowd roared in revelry and outrage. 

The referee attempted to revive the unconscious man on the mat. 

He ignored the chaos and fracas in favour of watching the fox prowl the perimeter of the cage and then pause in front of him. 

His lips parted on an exhale. Nostrils flared on the inhale. Eyes, flat, dull, barren, narrowed in on him and it was like a live wire jolted his entire being. 

Heaving. Wounded. Hobbling. 

A hot mess. 

And he’d never wanted anything so bad. 


	5. Chapter 5

“You see yourself in the ring again?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll get Hyson to referee if you fancy a bout. He’ll look after you.”

“What? No.”

“You got beef with him I don’t know about, little brother?”

“No. No, Hy’s cool. I’m not looking to fight.”

“You got your eye on a fighter then? The bulk of them are too volatile, but there are few brawlers with potential. What position you looking to fill?”

“I’m not… recruiting right now.”

“So, what then?”

“What?”

“You get your rocks off watching scummy merchants get smashed on baijiu?”

“N-no.”

“You got a taste for the shabu they’re trading in the club?”

“You know I don’t mess with that shit.”

“You wanna blow him?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

“…”

“…”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, I figured that too.”

“What. No - I mean…  _Fuck._ ”

“I got you the first time.”

“Dickwad.”

“You’ll always be my baby brother, He Tian.”

“…Yeah, whatever.”

“You never could hide shit.”

“Piss off.”


	6. Chapter 6

He remembers the first time he’d tried to approach him. 

The wasteland that doubled as a parking lot was a cemetery of abandoned sedans and SUVs, their owners deep in the pit getting drunk on defeat and high on mayhem. Well, mostly abandoned. There was a rusty Cadillac that had had its heyday last century that was rocking unabashedly with activity. 

A ratbag getting laid. Or slain. 

He diverted his attention elsewhere. 

The air was sticky, stifling. The skies overcast with a promise. A threat. A presage. 

The mist, sultry and sinister, embraced him over his leather jacket. Snug. And, like a lover scorned, tried to suffocate him. He shivered out of its vice. 

Where was he? 

His plan had been to approach him, strike a conversation all casual-like, maybe talk about current giant panda conservation efforts. Maybe ask him out. 

Not thirty minutes ago he’d watched him go head-to-head with one of the club’s legendary fighters. King Kobra. An ex-con with ten years at Qincheng under his belt who came out more savage than when he went in. A crowd favourite and notorious for his submission holds. 

A minute into an anaconda choke had the referee pulling them apart. 

The fox didn’t have a chance. 

Wait, should he open up with commiserations? Or were pandas a safer, more neutral topic? 

Fuck. 

He should be in the lot by now. He never lingered after a fight. What was the hold-up? 

The metallic whine-and-grind from the Cadillac in the corner was winding down. A door squealed open and the silhouette of a slim man tumbled out. Followed by another of a similar build. 

And then a third trying to keep his pants up and his baseball cap down. And failing. 

And bringing up the rear was a forth silhouette – broader, with colossal-sized thighs, and a belt that wasn’t unbuckled and hanging loose. His companions hadn’t shared the fashion memo. 

He watched as man number four locked up. Zipped up. Stretched the kinks out of his back. Sighed. 

The ratbag was in his prime, unlike the poor, archaic suspension. 

He was trying to figure out the mechanics of four grown-ass men playing extreme flirting in the back of a box-sized Catera when he spotted him scurrying in the opposite direction. Liu Guan Shan. 

Shit. 

The trio of young men, in various shades of crimson and states of undress, blocked his path as they sauntered slash stumbled towards the entrance of the club. The scent of sex, sweat and too much Allure Homme almost knocked him out. The sight of man number four made him wish he had been KO’d. 

Towering above his own six-foot-three frame, Sun Jie faltered in his steps as their paths crossed.  _Uncle_  Sun Jie. As in, the man who had taught him how to wield a dao. As in, his brother’s former right-hand man – before a shootout took out both his kneecaps and meant he was out of commission.  _Allegedly_  out of commission. Wait til his brother heard about this. 

Uncle Sun Jie who he had always thought was older than dirt. Older than anyone he knew. 

He’d called him a  _ratbag_. In his head. But still. 

“He Tian, if you tell your brother I will kill you and then kill myself.” 

“Uncle Jie, one of those guys looked as young as me!” He couldn’t help himself. He was scandalised. What he was trying to say was “What juice do you use to keep up and who is your dealer?” 

“Don’t be silly, boy. None of them are underage.” 

“ _I’m twenty-four_.” 

“When did you grow so fast?” 

“What?” 

“I’m not sure what you think happened back there.” 

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to think about what happened back there.” 

“The Catera’s stick is playing up again. They were having a look at it with me.” 

“I don’t think it was the car’s stick that was getting stage time.” 

“Watch that tongue, He Tian.” 

“Don’t say tongue!” 

“The stick though!” 

“My childhood!” 

He never got anywhere near Liu Guan Shan that night. 


	7. Chapter 7

He remembers the second time he’d tried to approach him. 

The dewpoint had been climbing over the last few days and the humidity was especially oppressive that night. The air was stagnant, saturated, and he had to wrestle each breath from the surrounding troposphere. 

There was an electric hum amidst the layers of moisture, an intro to the verse of a looming storm. 

The monsoon season was upon Sichuan. 

He’d put some thought into avoiding a repeat of last week’s episode of Awkward Families. First, a guise: a low hanging Red Sox snapback. Second, stealth: the sapless shadow offered by a rangy Katsura tree. Third, location: as far as fuck from the accursed Cadillac without losing view of the club’s only public access. 

And there he was. 

Lumbering across the lot because he’d dropped from a liver shot not twenty minutes ago. 

Lithe. Limber. Luscious. 

And wrapped in more fog than fabric. 

A ratty rucksack slung over a shoulder. Salmon pink cargo shorts. A threadbare tank top that was more armhole than cloth. 

He followed him through the haze. 

What was his opening line again? Something about adopting a panda together. 

He grappled with his thoughts as Liu Guan Shan threw a leg over a wiry, battered contraption that might have been a bicycle in a previous life. If you squinted hard enough. 

The pedals snapped in prostration. The chain rattled a  _ching_ _-clink-clack_  in supplication. The tyres sputtered dust, gravel and debris in a desperate plea. It pulled out of its parking spot. Intact. Prayers heard. 

The pitch of each squeak, squeak, squeak surged as the apparatus picked up speed. 

He watched as its rider dissolved into the murky night. 

No. Wait. 

 _Fuckgoddamn_ _._  

Ten minutes later and he was in his R8 cruising along the dirt road that led away from the club, windows cranked down so that he could guesstimate how close or how far he was by the creaking of the two-wheeler masquerading as a cycle. 

He couldn’t see shit in the fog but he didn’t want to turn his lights on and… what? Scare him off? Announce his presence? Broadcast his aberration? 

What was he  _doing_ anyway?  _Following him home?_  

And where was home exactly? The underground club lingered on the outskirts of rural Shunqing, deliberately situated miles away from the built up, residential areas. The nearest bus stop had been omitted from public transport routes years ago after one too many stick-ups by a makeshift gang harassing passengers for their meagre change. Turned out the bus driver was in on it. The stop now provided occasional shelter to the young women and younger men offering their slippery services to the farmers and truckers passing through. 

Unless the bike had an airborne mode he didn’t know about, Liu Guan Shan wasn’t going anywhere fast. 

He’d just wanted his number. 

The skies sighed. A drizzle shimmied down. The dense mist mellowed out to willowy wisps –gunsmoke masking the svelte form of a ghost in high tops. 

He was getting drunk on the sight of him. 

Long, powerful legs. Pumping. Calf muscles bunching. Hamstrings clenching. 

Ass in the air. Glutes taut when he rode hard, supple when he coasted. 

The metal pretzel swaying left-right-left between his legs with each revolution. 

He envied the pretzel. He wanted to be the frigging pretzel. 

Fuck. He was getting lightheaded, the bulk of his circulation diverted south. The loose sweatpants were the only sound decision he’d made that night. 

He heard it before he saw it – the sky collapsing in on itself. The grating as it came apart, the rush of the downpour, the sizzle of a lightning bolt as it blitzed the darkness. 

He caught a fraction of a frame as Liu Guan Shan swerved on his bike before the rainfall claimed all visibility. 

This was getting stupid. He needed to get him out of the storm. Get him warm. Using the Audi’s heating system. Not his own. Not yet anyway. Unless he wanted him to. In which case… 

He revved the engine. Flicked the headlights on. Glanced at the dashboard – how had it been two hours already? Where even were they? 

Billboards. Multi-storey buildings. Three am traffic. 

Metropolitan Nanbu. 

He was trying to get his head around the idea of a man cycling that kind of distance after going three rounds with The Gator when he realised he couldn’t see him. He wasn’t there. He’d lost him. Again. 

But then he heard it. The shrill squawking of the cycle softened by the pelting of the monsoon shower. A siren’s hymn calling him home. 

He signalled right. Turned wide. Drove past a spate of signs. “North Sichuan Dance Academy”. Another right. “Dormitories”. First exit on the mini roundabout. “Liberty House”. 

He watched Liu Guan Shan leap off the bike. Secure it swiftly to a rack. And vault towards a plant-lined green building, breathtaking even in the dull grey before dawn. He vanished behind reflective glass doors. 

Huh. 

What was a dance student at a private university doing trading punches in illicit fight circles? 

Who  _are_  you, little fox, and what is your story?


	8. Chapter 8

He remembers the third time he’d tried to approach him.

He remembers because ‘third time lucky’ had never rung so true.

The night was young, on the cusp of a dark rebellion. The fox’s match wasn’t for another couple of hours and after the debacle of his previous attempt he yearned for some friendly counsel.

And a drink.

Or two.

He parked his ride in front of the glossy ‘Reserved for Management’ sign – a redundant arrangement because Ria always stationed her Ducati in the motorbike shed around the back. It suited him just fine though. Especially on theme nights when parking was a bitch bent on gnawing his every last nerve.

The muggy air, weaved with a dank earthiness, hit him like a wave as he parted with the deliciously cool interior of his car. Gravel, glass and cigarette butts crunched a greeting beneath the heels of his Saint Laurent Chelsea boots. The R8 chirped a farewell.

The Lounge was a three-level establishment situated between a gentlemen’s tailor and a teahouse – a harmonious settlement when Ria and Kaelin’s mother still held the deed and oversaw the bar and restaurant. When she stepped down to go backpacking across Colombia with her latest beau, the business blossomed into a leather bar that beckoned a different brand of local, expat and bumbling tourist.

The neighbouring institutes were none too happy and this reflected in their revised opening hours, a manoeuvre, they claimed, to prevent the clashing of the different classes of customers. However, he knew that half the men who got suited and booted at Mr Wu’s dropped their pants with just as much vigour in the semiprivate rooms on the second floor of the bar. No mention was made of this. Nor was any mention made of the influx of the bar’s patrons to the bespoke when Mr Wu’s nephew, with his twinkling eyes and his deft, straying hands, interned during the holidays.

He nodded at the bouncer, a stony-faced skinhead who could probably bench press his Audi and then some. He didn’t recognise him; the likely scenario being Ria having caught the last muscle and Kaelin playing rodeo in the breakroom and said muscle being relegated to den duty. She only ever enforced her non-fraternisation policy when it came to propositioning her precious little brother.

Pfft.

The last three bouncers had been putty in his ‘precious’ little hands. There was less propositioning on their part and more pouncing on Kaelin’s part. But ever the doting sister, Ria was blind to his shameless appetite and slutty prowess.

The Lounge wasn’t the kind of place that needed to dim its lights to make up for a lack of ambience. Glossy, textured grey floors. Gargantuan black ceiling beams. Glittered, white, brickwork walls. A colossal rock counter that curved around a myriad of incandescent alcoholic offerings. And at the centre of the room, a restored Bösendorfer that spilt her secrets under the spell of the former owner. With Ria tone-deaf and Kaelin more interested in the notes he could hit handsfree, the grand piano was more instrument than instrumental to the venture these days.

A spirited wolf whistle whipped the slow tempo of the chill trap tune swirling from the aerial speakers. The few, scattered customers furnished him a cursory once-over, the regulars dipping their heads in deference.

Kaelin was holding up the bar and he whistled again like he might not have been heard the first time. His unassuming androgynous features were set alight by his all-consuming green eyes, a token from the Irish father he’d never know. He could sometimes see why Ria thought her kid brother was innocence personified. His small stature. Dimpled smile. Soft, silvery laughter.

“Somewhere a bachelorette party is missing their stripper!”

And then he could see why she was wrong.

“You got _bigger_ , bro. How much you lifting these days?” Kaelin leaned across the countertop, rested his chin in his hands, batted his lashes.

“Evidently not as much as the new hire.” He commandeered a barstool. Parked his ass down.

“Who? You mean Sir So Alpha, Much Steroid out there? Bah.” A classic Kaelin orbital roll. “He’s no fun.”

He Tian smiled as a familiar weight pressed down and warmed his back. He could feel the tick tick tick of the prosthetic heart valve as much as he could feel the stray pale hairs tickling his cheek. He breathed in the familiar scent of his best friend. Belonging. Beloved. Brother.

“He’s just upset the beefcake bouncer turned down his buns. Ria’s stepping up her game.” Came Jian Yi’s retort. A brief back hug and the weight lifted. “And he’s right. You did get bigger. Why are you wearing your date pants?”

“Date pants? I don’t have _date pants_.”

“Oh, my bad. Your down-and-dirty pants.”

Kaelin snorted.

The loose bun perched atop his head swayed precariously as Jian Yi seated himself on the neighbouring stool, a few more strands swinging free. Dressed in the nondescript dark shirt and slacks uniform of The Lounge, he looked good. Looked better.

The sallow of his skin had softened to a subdued radiance. His hair, in all its deliberate, messy glory, was thicker, dynamic, dazzling. Now all that was left was for the stubborn tan line on his ring finger to fade.

“Seriously, they’re like two sizes too small.” Jian Yi raised a brow and the corner of lips twitched. “It is doing splendid things for your package but I’m pretty sure you’d rather not advertise you hang to the left. You gotta leave some things to the imagination.”

“I couldn’t disagree more.” Kaelin countered, tiptoeing and trying to lean further across the bartop.

Jian Yi rapped his knuckles against the rock. “Eyes back in their sockets, spring chicken. And what’s a man gotta do to get some service around here?”

Backing up with a begrudging sigh, Kaelin asked, “What can I get ya, bro?”

“Jack and Coke," He Tian replied. “Make it a double.”

Jian Yi appraised him and when Kaelin was out of earshot said, “Date pants _and_ liquid courage. Who’s the lucky guy?”

He took a deep breath. Let it out slow. “You remember the guy I told you about, at the Shunqing club?”

“Wank fodder with the legs?”

“Yeah. I mean, no.” He closed his eyes and Liu Guan Shan was there. Panting. Piquant. Perfect. “Jian Yi, I can’t get him outta my head.”

“So you’re a horndog like the rest of us. Embrace it and ask him to pop your cherry already.”

“Wh-what?” Came a stammered cry. A coaster landed in front of him. A clink of glass and ice. His whiskey cola. Kaelin looked horrified. “You haven’t -”

“I cashed in my v-card long before you started losing your baby teeth.” He Tian interrupted him, shooting Jian Yi a stern glare.

Kaelin squinted into the distance, probably trying to do the math in his head.

“Your _homosexual_ cherry, my friend. Mei Mei in the ninth grade did not wield a wang doodle.” Jian Yi wagged his index finger with a wink, likely remembering how He Tian had accidentally pocket dialled him halfway through the tête-à-tête.

“Matt had the right equipment," he muttered. He couldn’t believe they were discussing his sex life at the bar like it was opening night.

“Your college roommate groped you a few times. Maybe he sucked you off on your birthday. Or his birthday. That does not translate to ass-fucking.” Jian Yi shrugged as Kaelin attempted to smother a snicker.

He let the comment roll over him. It’d been a long time since he’d seen Jian Yi like this. Teasing. Playful. Vexing. More like himself.

Kaelin coughed into his hand. “I could help you out, if you wanted. I-”

“Almost-brother-in-law ain’t his type, Kae.” Jian Yi chided.

“The day sis and brother He Cheng tie the knot is the day I put myself in a chastity cage.” Kaelin frowned. “And that’s not what I meant. I was offering my primo lube.”

“Oooh.” Jian Yi propped his forearms on the counter and inclined forward. “The silicone stuff you leant me last time?”

“Yeah!” Beaming, his almost-bother-in-law turned to him. “You could fuck for hours.”

“Even underwater.” Jian Yi smiled coyly. “And smell like Very Cherry for days.”

He Tian downed his drink.


	9. Chapter 9

He’d put up a good fight. He always did. But his contender was cut from a different cloth – the kind of cloth that was conceived in squalor, spun from drudgery and destitution, and stained from a lifetime of fighting for survival. 

An expertly executed crucifix had the fox incapacitated. Unguarded. Overpowered. The jackhammer of 12-6 elbows was just overkill. The referee took his time pulling them apart. 

He Tian ground his molars as he looked away; it was getting harder to watch brutes twice, sometimes thrice, the redhead’s size take him on, spin him around, batter his spirit. 

He wasn’t naïve by any means. He knew his brother’s fight clubs were never about sportsmanship and all about bloodsport. And he knew the fox could hold his own. He didn’t need He Tian baring his teeth or fighting his battles. He wondered if he might endure the bloodier brawls better if he could tend to the fox afterwards, nurse his wounds, put him back together again.   

Ha. 

Maybe he was more naïve than he thought. 

There was only one way to find out. 

He regarded the defeated man as he unfurled on the mat, faltered as he took a stance, favouring the ribs on his right, and hobbled out of the ring. His expression indifferent. His eyes their usual flat, empty windows to nothingness. Perhaps there had not been any spirit left to batter. 

He Tian waited for the crowd’s excitement over the win to ebb before wading through the masses, jostling past bodies slick with sweat and sticky with baijiu. Those sober enough to recognise him stepped out of his way. 

The locker room was underground and an architectural disaster. There was no airflow to speak of and this showed in the rot propagating down the walls, the rusted metalwork, and the way his eyes watered when the onslaught of pits and balls singed his nasal receptors. He seated himself on the warped wooden bench before he passed out. 

The humidity in the room rivalled that of the monsoon season at her peak and he took his racer jacket off, unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled his sleeves up. Tried to breathe. He was going to see about installing a negative pressure system first thing tomorrow whether his brother liked it or not. 

The lighting was shit but he caught the curious, questioning contemplations of the few fighters getting dressed or undressed in the vicinity. They kept their distance. They knew better than to confront He Cheng’s kin. 

He wasn’t sure how to approach this. His brother had sussed him out. There was little doubt in his mind that his father suspected it. And he was out to his friends. But that hardly meant he was waving around his rainbow freak flag. He wasn’t going to skirt around the subject with Liu Guan Shan, but he didn’t exactly want to ask him out in a room full of roughnecks aching for some action.   

He caught the eye of a boxer he had seen train with Hyson on occasion and beckoned him closer. 

“Everything okay, boss?” The older man asked, the gold in his teeth glinting in the gauzy luminance. 

“Have you seen Liu Guan Shan?” He Tian’s voice was subdued by the clanking of locker doors and the clamour of oversized goons getting changed but he noticed a few conversations taper off as he spoke. 

The boxer raised an eyebrow, or what would have been his eyebrow had he not shaved it off along with all the hair on his head. 

“He just got outta the ring with Iron Fist," He Tian clarified. Surely he hadn’t left the club already. 

“Oh! Yeah. Foxy’s still in the showers.” The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the open stalls. “Kid spends more time in there than he does the cage.” 

He Tian frowned to himself as the other man cackled. He didn’t know how he felt about the fox’s byname or, more accurately, how he felt about a bunch of thugs calling Liu Guan Shan Foxy.   

“Uncle,” he began. Although, by association, He Tian was automatically top dog in the hierarchy, he found it never hurt when the other party thought you were asking instead of stipulating. He was definitely not asking and use of the deferent title distracted from this. “I need the room.” 

The boxer searched his eyes for a second and then nodded, conceding he wasn’t owed an explanation.   

The emptying of the locker room was nimble, uneventful. A few hushed words were exchanged between the impromptu mediator and the rest of the fighters. Towels were discarded. Junk covered. Belongings gathered. 

He didn’t fail to notice how the oppressive stench slackened to a tolerable tang as the men made their exit. He could breathe a little easier. 

The only sound now was the gurgling of a showerhead - two spurts away from being landfill waste if He Tian had his way. He added ‘plumbing’ to his mental list, right under ‘ventilation’. 

The phantom visual of a wet, naked Liu Guan Shan lathering himself up made it hard to breathe again. Fuck. 

He swung around on the bench and faced away from the stalls, an attempt to contrive some privacy, a heads-up for the other man when he came out. 

It was happening. He was finally going to speak to him. Two months of sitting ringside. Tormented. Tantalised. Wanting to touch and be touched.   

The shower spray cut off mid warble. A moment of quiet. And then the soft _slap, squish, slap_ of feet, getting louder, closer. The catacoustics created by each step made his heart spaz, his palms sweat and his cock swell.   

He tried to rearrange himself but the date pants were unforgiving. What little give there was was quickly consumed by his growing chub. His balls squirmed painfully in the denim vice. 

 _Panda, panda, panda,_  he chanted, willing his erection down. 

And then, in the periphery of his vision, Liu Guan Shan appeared.   

A dozen feet away, his back to him, busy opening a locker. Dressed already in a tattered grey tee and black running shorts. Barefoot. 

His pale, glistening feet squelched a short path between the lockers and the raggedy rucksack perched on the edge of the bench. Slender ankles. Chiselled, rosé knees. Bulging gastrocnemii.   

What little progress He Tian had made deescalating the situation down south went to shit. 

He watched him throw a few items into the bag – the sports shorts he’d been wearing in the ring, towel, tape, cup, jockstrap – white straps, yellow pouch, the dimensions of which he had no business appreciating this early on in their acquaintanceship. 

Liu Guan Shan’s head tilted slightly as he surveyed the vacant room, his eyes roaming and then settling on He Tian. Gone was the barren, bored consideration and in its place a scarlet stare that set his soul on fire. Fuck almighty, he was beautiful. 

He looked away as he sat down next to his rucksack, and proceeded to untie the laces on a pair of timeworn high tops. Slowly. Deliberately. Like it wasn’t something he did often because his feet were slim enough to just slip in. 

“I’m off my game.” He Tian startled at the voice, hoarse and honeyed all at once. “I’m blaming you, mister.” He spoke with a foreign intonation, lilting tones where they should have been clipped. 

Spellbound by the sublime sounds coming out of the redhead’s mouth, He Tian couldn’t gather his thoughts to string a sentence together. And the silence stretched for an eternity. 

Their eyes met.   

“You’re doing it again.” His fiery gaze ablaze and accusatory. 

“Huh.” He Tian’s tongue felt heavy. He willed his brain to catch up. What were they talking about? What had he supposedly done? 

Liu Guan Shan put his shoes down, stood up and strolled towards him. 

“How many matches have I won in the last 8 weeks?” He didn’t wait for an answer.  _“One.”_  

He stopped in front of He Tian and stepped into the space between his splayed legs. “And that’s only cause I didn’t notice you there that first time. A ringside spectator. Pretty as you please.” He grabbed two fistfuls of He Tian’s shirt and, in a single jarring jerk, pulled him up onto his feet.  _“Eye fucking me.”_  

The clatter of shirt buttons as they popped, dropped and oscillated on the hard ground was the only indication that time had not stopped. His diaphragm clenched so hard he couldn’t take in more than a sliver of air. 

They’d never been so close. 

Close enough that He Tian could enjoy the slight height advantage.  An advantage that meant Liu Guan Shan had to look up at him, and let the lacklustre light chase away the shadows on his face.   

Long, silken lashes that swept low at the outer corner of his lids, creating an illusion that reminded him of Ria’s winged eyeliner. A softly pointed chin, subtly off centre, likely the lovechild of a jolting jaw strike and the need to maintain a permanent scowl. Rouge lips, the upper half fuller, puffier and he wondered whether it was au natural or the result of the earlier wrangle. Who was he kidding, he wasn’t wondering at all. He just wanted. Wanted to maul those lips til time’s end. 

“Whose payroll are you on?” The redhead hissed. 

He Tian blinked. Tried to clear his lust-ladened mind. 

“Who hired you?” The grazed fists in his shirt tightened their hold. “Was it the Thai? I KO’d their best man in three seconds flat and suddenly I’m on their shit list.” He narrowed his eyes at He Tian. “What? They tell you to break my legs?” 

 _Break?_ He wanted to make love to them. 

The smaller man’s eyes widened in shock. 

Wait. Fuck. Had he said that out loud? 

“Who are you, mister?” The fists loosened their grip. 

He Tian dropped his gaze to that dainty cupid’s bow, drawn deep. He let his thumb follow its curve. 

“Your biggest fan," he whispered. 

The fire in Liu Guan Shan’s eyes crackled. Hesitant, his tongue slid out, glided across the pad. Cautious. He took the tip between his lips, sucked it once. Let it go. Took it back in again, sucked harder, sunk his teeth in. 

Damn. He Tian winced as his cock strained painfully against his fly. 

“Why do you taste like cherries?” Honeyed voice hoarser than it had been. 

Son of a bitch _._   _The primo lube._

Liu Guan Shan’s delectable mouth twisted into an eager grin. “I fucking  _love_ cherries.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, these two make me so randy.


	10. Chapter 10

He remembers that night in vivid, vibrant detail. The sights. The smells. The sounds Liu Guan Shan had made. The sense of awe he evoked.   

The events etched themselves into his core. Seared an imprint into his soul. 

He Tian studied the fine piece of man in his lap. Said man studied him back with just as much fervour.   

He could feel the weight, the warmth of him. Thigh on top of quivering thigh. 

The static in the air between them crackled with their concupiscence. 

“What’s it gonna be, mister?” Liu Guan Shan asked, leaning forward, drawing his lower lip into his mouth. 

“He Tian," he murmured. Barely. His voice thick with longing. 

“Noted.” A bewitching smile. “You can holler ‘Guan Shan’ as you orgasm.” 

The inferno in his pants surged and fried the leftover grey matter that was capable of functioning under such insufferable conditions. 

“I-” He Tian hated and loved the way this man rendered him speechless. Stupid. Starving. “I wanna take you out. Drinks. Dinner?” 

The smile eased into something sweeter. Guan Shan’s hands, with their skinned knuckles and slim fingers, pursued the planes of He Tian’s chest through the now mostly buttonless dress shirt. “You don’t gotta get me drunk to touch your dick, handsome.” 

He Tian bit back a moan. Clenched his teeth. 

Those pesky hands made their way to his pecs, explored the expanse of them, and then squeezed. Hard. 

This time a moan did escape. Loud. Uninhibited. He Tian felt his face flush with embarrassment. Need. The nakedness of it raw and rich. 

Guan Shan hummed in response as he tenderised He Tian’s delts, strummed down his arms, settled on top of his hands. Palms soft, supple, scorching.   

“It doesn’t work if I’m the only one having fun.” Guan Shan chastised, pulling He Tian’s hands towards himself, resting them atop his pale thighs. “You said you liked my legs.” 

Technically, He Tian had said he wanted to make love to them. But debating semantics was the furthest thing from his mind as he massaged the bulk of those exquisite quads. The synapses between his neurons misfired as he grasped at the reality of the situation. 

His hands. On Guan Shan’s thighs. Smooth, strong, sculpted thighs. The smattering of golden-red hair fair and downy. 

 _Fucking-A._  

Entranced, He Tian let his fingers slide up to the edge of the black shorts, down to the curve of scraped kneecaps. Skin, skin, skin. The contact sent sparks up his arms. 

His trail back up was interrupted as Guan Shan shifted, taking his weight off He Tian and rising onto his knees. The bench creaked a protest. 

“Feel me up from behind, too.” Guan Shan urged, gripping He Tian’s shoulders to keep himself upright. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He Tian skimmed his clammy hands down the swerve of Guan Shan’s hamstrings, dipped them into the sweet spot behind his knees, and then back up to the border of his shorts. Miles and miles of silky skin. 

An impatient growl and Guan Shan dropped his weight til he was halfway back to his sitting position. The sudden movement meant He Tian’s roaming hands slipped under the black fabric and stuttered around Guan Shan’s ass. 

His bare ass. Because he wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

 _Fuckshitgoddammit_ _._ He Tian almost blew his load. 

“That’s better.” Guan Shan purred, rolling his butt in He Tian’s palms. 

He Tian reigned back his rapture. Breathed deep. Concentrated on kneading the round flesh in his hands. He got rougher as the few remaining tiers of his control crumbled. 

 _“Fuck.”_ The word hitched on the gasp Guan Shan let out and He Tian’s cock thrummed in delight. He did that to him. Made him feel  _good_  like that. 

“You look like you’re packing something fierce.” Guan Shan whispered, eyeing He Tian’s crotch. “You wanna show me?” 

He nodded. Desperate. Distraught. Needing release. 

Yes. Yes.  _Please, yes._  

The clink of a belt unbuckling. A hiss as quick work was made of his fly. Guan Shan tried to pull his date pants down. Tugged. Tugged harder. 

“The fuck. Did you paint these on?” 

“I got bigger," he muttered defensively. He knew he was making little, if any, sense. Drunk on desire. He barely had two brain cells left to rub together. He attempted to push his pants down his hips. Tricky whilst he was sitting down, trickier with the dreamy redhead in his lap, trickier still as he tried to do it one-handed and keep the other on Guan Shan’s left ass cheek. 

Eventually, between the two of them, they managed to wrench the jeans down to mid-thigh. 

“Did you cum already?” Guan Shan squinted, frowning. 

He Tian attempted to scrutinize the sizeable damp patch on his pastel blue D&G’s but the haze fostered by his horniness was disorienting. 

“Nah.” He fucking hoped not. He would’ve known. Unless the entire experience was one drawn out, endless orgasm. Was that possible? 

Looking up at him, Guan Shan cocked a crimson brow, but didn’t say anything. Thank fuck. He was half worried he’d asked the moronic question aloud. 

He watched as his briefs were pulled down. His cock slapped against his abdomen and smeared precum across the happy trail peeking through the gap in his shirt. 

He sighed. The relatively cool air tempered the heat in his groin. 

“That looks,” Guan Shan paused and He Tian felt the tips of ears tingle. “Lethal.” 

He’d never had anyone ogle his junk like that and it made him feel like he was on cloud nine. Wait, was ‘lethal’ a compliment? 

“Your fruit hang… pretty low.” 

Forget tingle, that one sentence torched his entire fucking face. 

He’d always been self-conscious about his nads. He’d noticed at college his were bigger and hung lower than the rest of the guys’ on the soccer team. The campus physician had referred him to a specialist who smothered his boys in goo and pestered them with an ultrasound probe. All clear. 

Guan Shan’s fingers chased a tantalising trail across his sack and He Tian’s healthy, heavy balls squirmed. 

“I’m so hot for you right now.” Guan Shan’s accent got thicker the huskier he sounded. He Tian watched the embers in his eyes twinkle as his pupils blew, a smouldering overcast snuffing out the remaining signs of rational thought. 

Guan Shan draped long, lithe arms over He Tian’s shoulders, rubbed a sleek cheek against his end-of-the-day scruff. The friction felt absolutely divine.   

He Tian buried his nose behind Guan Shan’s ear, into his hair. Breathed him in. He smelled like surfboard wax – lime, coconut and palm leaf. 

Comfort. Crave. Crack. 

Nantasket beach had nothing on the tidal waves Guan Shan sent crashing through him. 

“Want you.” He Tian pleaded, whined. 

Panting now, Guan Shan pulled back. Hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his running shorts. Slid them down. Sent them sailing over his shoulder. 

He Tian caught a glimpse of the intricate thigh tattoo before he zeroed in on Guan Shan’s cock. 

Cut. 

And unapologetically gorgeous like the rest of him. 

Guan Shan palmed himself a few times. Brought their crotches close. 

Together, they watched as He Tian’s fat, ruddy cock twitched and scrawled a line of precum across Guan Shan’s modest length. 

He’d never done anything so obscene.   

They rubbed their cocks together, speed building up until Guan Shan was humping against He Tian. Chest to chest. Cheek against cheek. His fingers digging into the flesh of He Tian’s back. The sound of their balls slapping echoed shamelessly off the walls. 

Guan Shan was breathing against his ear, each exhale interweaved with a whimper. 

He turned his face, panted hot air against He Tian’s neck, bit his ear. 

Ah,  _fuck_. He was gonna cum. 

He grabbed the underside of Guan Shan’s thighs and the bruising grip caused the smaller man to yelp. He Tian stood up, hiked Guan Shan up so that their rutting was interrupted. He felt powerful legs wrap themselves around his torso. 

In a flurry of motion and urgency, He Tian squeezed the base of his cock, correctly calculated the give the denim around his knees would offer him only to trip over the pair of tossed black running shorts.   

“Shit!” 

“What are you  _doing?”_  Guan Shan wailed. 

To prevent them from crashing full-force into the lockers, He Tian let go of himself and slammed his hand palm-first into the weathering metal door, his other hand cradling the back of Guan Shan’s head. The impact sounded like a cannon going off and Guan Shan stiffened, his legs tightening their hold around He Tian. His beautiful, breathtaking legs. 

He Tian came undone. He bit into the juncture between Guan Shan’s pale neck and even paler shoulder. He tasted citrus, fresh sweat, and Shunqing water.   

His kindled core unravelled and he felt the tremors ignite his release. Ropey cum spurted and razed Guan Shan’s balls, the back of his thighs, his taint, even the locker that had taken the brunt of their misstep. 

He felt the redhead shudder against him.   

“Harder,” Guan Shan gasped. “Bite me harder.” 

And so he did. 

When he felt the quivers relinquish their hold on Guan Shan, he unlocked his jaw and surveyed the damage he had done. He hadn’t broken skin. And he hadn’t wanted to. He ran his tongue over his canines, savouring the taste of him. Sweet and tart. 

He then surveyed the damage he had done to the rest of him. 

Rosy-cheeked. Eyes simmering. A smile coasting his wet lips. 

The front of his grey tee a testament to his climax. 

“What was _that_ about?” Guan Shan’s smile broke into a blinding grin. 

He Tian felt himself blush. “I didn’t wanna… cum too fast.” 

“Too fast? I was right behind you, handsome. Probably ahead of you before the whole roadkill kink.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes!” 

He gently bumped his nose into Guan Shan’s. “Call me He Tian.” 

The giddy tone waned to gamey. “Oh? I thought we’d agreed you’d be screaming  _my_  name. I didn’t take you for a biter.”   

“I’m not. Usually.” He Tian stammered. “I mean, I don’t know. I just know that I… want you. Have wanted you. For so fucking long.” 

He brought their faces close again. Lingered on the sight of Guan Shan’s parted lips. He wondered how the taste of his mouth would compare to that of his skin. He lifted his gaze, imploring. 

Guan Shan tilted his head. His pink, glistening tongue darted out and skimmed the seam between He Tian’s lips. 

“Mmm. Whiskey-Jack.” Levity danced in his fiery eyes. “What say you take me out for that drink, He Tian?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyo, lads
> 
> Testicular cancer is real. Half of those who get it are males aged between 15 - 35. The good news is that, if picked up early, you can nuke those sons of bitches and never look back. The bad news is that we're piss poor at self-examinations. The trick is to fondle your balls when you're nice and relaxed. And to do it often. I self-check in the shower and do it once a week. Show your tools a different kind of TLC. Go nuts. This has been a PSA.
> 
> Now. Back to the sexy talk. Comment below if this chapter hit any of your sweet spots.


	11. Chapter 11

**Big bro:**  I have something for you 

 **You:**  sup 

 **Big bro:**  [click to download]

 **Big bro:**  Your first sex tape 

 **You** **:**  !!!!!!!!????? 

 **You:**  you haVE CAMERAS IN THE LOCKER ROOM???? 

 **You** **:**  ??????!!!!! 

 **You:**  what is wrong with you??? 

 **Big bro:**  That pasty ass filled out. Jump squats? 

 **You:**  He Cheng 

 **You:**  don’t look at his ass 

 **Big bro:**  I wasn’t talking about your boyfriend’s ass 

 **Big bro:**  So 

 **Big bro:**  What’s the going rate for amateur gay porn these days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a forbidden fruit hard-on for He Cheng. My daddy kink self-combusted in chapter 266.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This excerpt contains disturbing references to cruelty and domestic abuse. Even as a survivor, I find it difficult to put into words the horror that is intimate partner violence. If you are of a sensitive disposition or have been sensitised in the past, I ask that you proceed with caution.
> 
> And remember to, always, love yourself.

“Oh. My. _God_.” 

“What?” He’d practised his poker face in the vanity mirror for ten minutes straight before he’d climbed out of the R8. And his nonchalant tenor during the half hour drive. 

He had insouciant down to a T. 

“You slut!” Jian Yi yelled, brandishing a rolled-up booklet as a megaphone.

_Balls._

He avoided his best friend’s accusatory gaze as he shrugged out of his fleece jacket. Dropped it onto the nearest armchair. 

“You totally put out on the first date!” Jian Yi mock-gasped. “Kaelin must be rubbing off on you. Although not, to his everlasting disappointment, in the literal sense.” 

He Tian rolled his eyes, sitting cross-legged on the floor and snagging the distressed manual from Jian Yi’s grasp. 

“We haven’t been on a date yet.” He mumbled, pretending to be riveted by the page on general safety. It was in Russian. Maybe. 

“He deflowered you without paying for dinner first?” Jian Yi shrieked, doing his best impersonation of a scandalised dame. 

He Tian suppressed a smile. He had thought this side of Jian Yi long-gone, permanently stunted and soured by the shitbag who’d shredded his spirit. 

“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, bud.” 

“Oh, like how he jumped on you to do this?” Jian Yi leaned forward to tug on He Tian’s left ear. 

“Ow.”   

“Uhm, TMI? I did not ask for a re-enactment.” 

Rubbing at the tender lobe Guan Shan had bitten, He Tian couldn’t hold back his smile any longer. 

“Okay, okay. We had some fun last night.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t all he could think about since. “That’s all. Don’t go fishing for deets.” 

“I knew it! And I’m not interested in hearing about your vanilla cherry-poppin’ sexcapades.” Jian Yi poked at a black piece of canvas. “I summoned you for your constructional abilities.” 

“What is all this?” He Tian examined a link of chunky chains. “Hammock meets heavy metal?” 

“A sex swing.” Jian Yi plucked the manual from He Tian’s hands. “Allegedly.” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked by his childhood friend to help assemble furniture or install equipment at The Lounge. Last month it had been a state-of-the-art whipping bench in the den. As a fulltime employee with no specific title and no job description, Jian Yi did everything from ordering hair-raising hardware to orchestrating entertainment on theme nights. The job was a filler, Ria had said when she offered it. A distraction whilst he took a break from his undergrad degree in international relations to get his life and mind back on track. 

It was midday, but the playroom was windowless, and time was an illusion. The smoky lustre seeping from the rustic sconce lights vivified the violet undertones in Jian Yi’s ash blond hair. He was growing it out again, had styled it in a haphazard French braid that spilt over his shoulder. His regal cheekbones once garnered inadvertent teenage admiration and adversary, capsizing their high school class into chaos. They’d grown gaunt when he lost weight last year, but they were now gilt-edged, set to fracture a nation. The nails he’d habitually nibbled to the quick in the months following the assault were rounded and ivory-lacquered. 

He Tian would never forgive himself for missing the signs, for overlooking the truths in Jian Yi’s lies, for not recognising the bruises for what they were – and what they most definitely weren’t; merely a byproduct of the blood-thinning medication he took for his metallic valve. 

It didn’t matter that He Tian had been eleven thousand kilometres away in the middle of his own degree at MIT. He should have known. He would’ve flown the fuck back and ripped the bastard’s face off. 

When they were kids, he’d been able to read Jian Yi like the back of his hand. But a lot could happen in five years. People changed, kids grew up. Your best friend fell in love and moved in with his boyfriend. The short visits back home were fleeting, and Jian Yi had been furtive. 

It was Ria who had found him. He was a no-show at Kaelin’s eighteenth, and as co-organiser of the event that was unsettling. Bound, drugged and beaten to within an inch of his life. The controlling fucker had finally snapped. He’d found out about the go-go boys Jian Yi had hired for the party and went apeshit. Jealously was a disease and the son of a bitch was riddled. 

For all his guilt, He Tian knew it was only a fraction of what his older brother felt. Jian Yi was family; He Cheng had watched over an infirm, frail boy who was his younger brother’s age but smaller and slower, who always wanted to play with the other kids but struggled to keep up, who got more breathless the older he got because his surgeons were holding out til his heart was big enough for the op. 

He Cheng was fiercely protective of him and the bullying through middle school only fuelled his big-brother instincts. When he’d walked in on a fifteen-year-old Jian Yi playing tongue hockey with president of the debate club, he’d dragged him to a sexual health clinic and told him that boys were only after one thing and that his virtue was worth more than that. It didn’t surprise He Tian when Jian Yi didn’t tell He Cheng about his older – much older – freelance designer boyfriend, or about shacking up with him. That year, trade with the southern gang had taken a hit after the government’s crackdown on weapon smuggling and He Cheng spent months on end flitting between Hong Kong and Shanghai, repairing severed ties. Had distance and work not played a factor, He Tian knew his brother would have picked up on the cues Jian Yi was desperately trying to hide. And would’ve raised hell. 

Afterwards, Jian Yi had asked Ria and He Cheng not to tell him. But Kaelin had already left a frantic voicemail and He Tian was on the next flight back home. He’d watched as the shell of his best friend snoozed in the hospital bed, zonked out on pain meds, the blood in the chest drain tube swinging with each rasping breath. He’d heard Jian Yi’s wet, agonised sobs when he woke. And then his desperate attempts to make them stop when he spotted He Tian in the room. 

He wasn’t a violent man. Sure, he’d had his fair share of playground spats, back alley brawls, rounds in the ring. It was a means, never an end. He knew that. But nothing had made him see red like the sight of Jian Yi blindsided, broken, bleeding. Crying because the man he loved didn’t love him back. 

They said vengeance was like drinking poison and waiting for the other guy to die. He Tian was ready to down a gallon. 

Except his brother had then picked him up at the hospital and told him it was done. 

Three weeks later he’d received a ten-second clip from an unknown number. Grainy footage of Jian Yi’s ex foaming at the mouth, limbs spasming, neck twisted at an odd angle. Eyes pleading. Begging, begging, begging. 

Rabies. 

His brother could be cruel but nature was callously indifferent and the combination was chilling. 

“You’re spacing out on me.“ Jian Yi whined, throwing a heavy-duty strap in his direction. 

“Shit. Sorry.” He Tian caught the strap as it sailed over his head. Jian Yi would never know. Could never know.   

“Last night’s sexy times got your head in the clouds, huh? Well, stud, we open in an hour and unless this thing is up and swinging you’ll be depriving other virgin fledglings of their sexy times. Is that what you want? Is that the kind of man you are? I raised you better than that.” 

“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir.” 

“I thought I made it clear I didn’t want a play-by-play of last night’s debauchery?” Jian Yi made a face and He Tian laughed. 

It would be a cold day in hell before he ever let anyone hurt him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you travelling to rabies-endemic areas, the WHO is an excellent resource.  
> https://www.who.int/rabies/about/en/


	13. Chapter 13

He remembers their first date.    

He remembers driving through a decrepit neighbourhood: decayed buildings deserted by their proprietors, ragged roads dismissed by the prefecture, desolate beings disowned by the populace.    

The polished, panther-black of his ride stood out against the grim grey of the borough and he was reluctant to abandon it to the tender mercy of a slum that hadn’t been shown any.    

He and Guan Shan hadn’t exchanged numbers. There was no way for him to confirm the whereabouts of their confluence, to request a relocation, or to ask him what in the fuck he did hanging around this part of the city. Their parting the previous night had been premature, panicked, precipitated by the approaching ruckus of a fighter who had failed to score in the ring.    

Guan Shan had used his shirt to clean them up, named a time and place, and was gone before He Tian could say ‘wham bham, thank you ma’am’.    

And before he could even get his damn pants back up.    

He pulled up alongside a trio of crackheads who looked livelier than their compatriots down the road, or at least a little less shitfaced. Following much vacillation, he exited the vehicle and cringed as their caws and cackles stripped the night of its sleepy slumber.  

“What ya doin’ so far away from home, daddy-o?”    

They shared the generic look of a people more carcass than conscience. Rotten, infested, wrecked. Life had dealt them a tough hand and chance and circumstance meant that bad choice after bad choice after bad choice was a carousel they couldn’t get off, the conductor a community that just didn’t give a shit. Forsaken until they forsook themselves and there was nothing left but a nameless, faceless lump that spent every day of its existence in the purlieus of expiration.    

“They be more than one or he just swole as fuck?” One of them squalled and the other two erupted into delirious caterwauls.  

He Tian swallowed his disdain and grabbed a handful of one-hundred yuan bills from his wallet before flinging them in the general direction of the hysteria.    

“No one touches her.” He warned, scowling against the foetor of filth and piss. “Or I’ll string you all from your fucking balls.”    

“Oooh. Disrespect me more, daddy.” The phlegmy response disintegrated into a fit of coughs and then launched into a hyenic cachinnation that made his ears ring.    

He Tian flipped them off before he stormed past, heading towards a derelict single-level establishment that reeked of the ripened desperation of a dive bar. Despite the years of grease and grime, the numbers ‘135’ on the plaque at the entrance were unmistakable.    

 _This_  was Guan Shan’s ideal venue for a wind-down drink? It was the sort of place that saw more spillages in the form of bodily fluid than beverage. He had trouble picturing the trust fund kids who went to North Sichuan Dance Academy frequenting these parts. He Tian knew Guan Shan could hold his own, but the sickos on the streets would surely eat the average moneyed hatchling for breakfast and then snort their crushed, bony remains for kicks.    

He walked in, breathing in the scent of Chunghwa, distilled spirits and cheap perfume, the distinct lack of sweat and shame in the air a curious phenomenon. Until his retinas adjusted to the darkness indoors and the patrons – in all their corseted, fishnetted, black-lipped glory – unravelled from the shadows and he realised that in a lesbians’ goth bar  _he_  was the curious phenomenon.    

He’d never felt so preppy in a cashmere sweater and tapered chinos, and yet so underdressed. A blue-haired beauty in a pinstriped bustle skirt eyed him like he was something one of the crackheads outside had hacked up mid-stultiloquy. When he attempted to stare her down, the amorphous figure sitting alongside her hissed at him.    

 _Sh_ _i_ _t._      

He  _must_  have got the address wrong. There was no way Guan Shan had intended for them to meet here. And make it out alive.    

Feeling out of place and out of sorts, he avoided eye contact with the other customers and skulked towards the counter. The barmaid was an elfin woman gilded in more tats than garment. She garnished him with a blistering glare, smacking gum between her molars like she was inclined to do the same to his genitals.   

“Whatever you’ve got on tap.” He Tian muttered, sifting through his wallet and finding only a few single yuan notes. He pulled out his platinum card.   

“Cash only.” She sneered and he could’ve sworn the inked raven coasting the curve of her breasts narrowed its sable eyes at him.   

“Miss," He Tian started. “I didn’t come here looking for trouble. I’m waiting on someone.”    

And it was only once he’d said it aloud that he allowed himself to question the truth in his truth. Was he? The venue choice was setting off all kinds of warning bells. Was Guan Shan looking forward to this date as much as he was? Was he gonna show? What did he even know about the mind behind the man-candy? So far out of his comfort zone, the incertitude clawed at his confidence until all that was left was a self-doubt that quaked under the barkeep’s scrutiny.   

And he let it show.   

“I think," he added, sotto voce.   

A marginally sympathetic sigh buffered her saturnine mien. She turned away from him, cranked out a frothy brew into a tall, frosted glass. “First drink’s on the house.”   

 _Clunk. Slide. Slosh._    

The beer head barely survived the exchange.   

 _Score._   

He Tian wasn’t the crew’s chief negotiator because he could spit out more cherry knots drunk than a high-class harlot could sober.   

And that was just the one time. He had been too off his face to tactfully decline the challenge. Or tactfully let the other party win. Or not so tactfully body slam his captain before he’d uploaded the clip onto Snapchat. He’d spent the rest of the college semester thwarting porny proffers about his tongue’s talents.  

No. His tongue’s skillset extended far beyond its acrobatics.  

“Appreciated," he said sincerely before withdrawing to a booth in a secluded corner, the alcoholic conciliation blunting the crowd’s bladelike censure.  

He acknowledged their antipathy. This was their turf. Refuge. Sanctuary. And he was an outsider. Intentions unverified. Combatant until proven comrade.  

The draft beer was crisp, the aftertaste an acerbic sapor that was gonna put some hairs on his chest.  

He’d just psyched himself up for a second sip when the man of his dreams stepped into view.  

Clad in distressed grey jeans. A Liberation Not Deportation shirt. A borrowed jacket. The sleeves bunched up.  

No one had ever worn his clothes before. There’d never been an occasion. A need.  

On Guan Shan it looked right. Radical. And, last night, after his tee had been relegated to cum rag, he’d swiped He Tian’s racer jacket and walked away. Shirtless. Rocking leather, shorts and a rakish smile. And He Tian had wanted to ravish him all over again.  

Guan Shan appraised the room, apparently unaware of the effect he was having on its residents. On one man in particular. He had shed the glacial exterior he wore like a shield in the club and what was left was amplified against the monochromatic bar. The glimmer in his beguiling eyes. The blood red of his mussed hair. The gloss of his moistened lips. An ingénu in a den of vampiresses. 

But the vitriolic reception that received He Tian was replaced by a friendly familiarity. A succession of waves, blown kisses and buoyant greetings. 

Guan Shan noticed him then. A luscious grin right at home on his handsome face. He made the universal sign for a drink. 

He Tian indicated his more than half-full glass and then watched as Guan Shan sauntered to the counter. Leaned over. Tight jeans drawing tighter. 

Hot  _d_ _a_ _mn._  

He Tian’s fingers twitched involuntarily. His cock followed suit. 

The soft denim clung to the contours of that ass like sin on a sinner. 

Did Guan Shan have any idea what that did to him?

The man in question looked over his shoulder. Winked. 

Yes. Yes, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's interested in purchasing a Liberation Not Deportation shirt (as featured in Maroon 5's Girls Like You) ~>  
> https://www.nysylc.org/shop/liberation-not-deportation


	14. Chapter 14

He remembers the night losing its script and concluding with a scene they hadn’t agreed on, one they hadn’t rehearsed or even considered.   

He remembers feeling unprepared, perplexed, desperate. The trio a recurring theme that overthrew his natural tendencies, one that only ever materialised around the redheaded wonder.  

He was lowkey upset that Guan Shan had chosen to sit opposite him in the booth rather than next to him, up against him, real close and personal.  

But then Guan Shan had threaded his legs around He Tian’s. And with his right leg snug between those strong thighs, He Tian didn’t mind the arrangement. He didn’t mind it at all. The thighs pressed in closer and a sizzling appreciation prickled through him at the power of them.  

Of Guan Shan.  

Over him.  

“Not gonna lie.” Guan Shan shrugged, his shoulders rolling under the oversized jacket. “Kinda surprised you’re here.”  

He Tian eyed the way Guan Shan sipped the neon green cocktail through the candy straw. The way he licked his lips after each swallow. And licked. And licked.  

He Tian cleared his throat. “You didn’t think I’d show?”  

“I didn’t think you’d stay.”  

“The girl gang is a little hostile,” he conceded. ‘Little’ being an understatement.  

“‘Hostile’ is just ‘hot’ with a lisp.” Guan Shan countered, the corner of mouth lifting in casual amusement.  

He Tian didn’t know what to make of that. Was he saying he was into the goth crowd? That he was into women? Where did He Tian lie on this spectrum of attraction?  

“They got nothing on you though.” Plucking the collar of his tee, Guan Shan pulled it down to reveal a cherry-coloured double crescent wound. Teeth marks.  

He Tian’s teeth marks.  

“Fuck.” He did that? It looked  _sore._   

He was on the verge of deploying his panoply of apologies when Guan Shan hummed in approval.  

“Definitely.” The fluorescent drink reflected bright and brilliant in the eyes looking back at him. “Maybe later tonight If you play your cards right.”  

 _Ah, hell._   

His years of advanced negotiation training and conditioning hadn’t prepared him for this. One entrancing look and he was overturned. Tongue-tied and tripping.  

He took a long swig of his beer – too long a swig – and quelled the urge to wince at the acridity. It felt like his first ever shot of tequila. Except he wasn’t fifteen. And the burn was ten times worse. But a million times better for the company.  

Vision swimming, He Tian blinked back his bewilderment. The blatant flirtatious banter was doing incredible things for his ego, and unspeakable things to his cock. But it was like he had forgotten how to flirt back. How did you tell a man that his beauty made your knees buckle? That the way he danced divested you of your good judgement? That his smile made you want to do bad,  _bad_ , things to him?  

“I’m keeping the jacket.” Guan Shan declared, canting forward.   

He Tian got a lungful of lime, earth and leather.  

And him, him, him.  

“I like it on you,” he confessed.  

“Better than you’d like it on your bedroom floor?”  

“Just… you. In my jacket. And not much else.”   

 _Fuck me._  Where did  _that_ come from?  

“Not much else, huh?” Guan Shan teased, the tip of his tongue chasing a drop of green gone rogue.   

“I really,” He Tian began, the fire in his throat faltering at the heat incinerating his face, “really like you.”  

“Oh, I noticed.” Another seductive sip. “It’s distracting as fuck. And I need to win my next match.”  

“But I like” –  _love –_  “watching you fight.” He wasn’t pouting, but it was close. Guan Shan wasn’t going to ban him from spectating, was he?  

“If I lose another fight I’ll be benched for the rest of the month.”  

“Shit.” Maybe he was.  

“It won’t last. This. We just gotta fuck it outta our system. I’ll be a little less pent up. And you’ll be a little less… smitten.”  

He Tian didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t believe it. What he felt wasn’t going to fizzle with a quick lust-and-thrust. It upset him that Guan Shan misunderstood his intentions. It upset him more that he had done a piss-poor job of making those intentions clear.  

With a newfound tenacity, he reached across the tabletop and took Guan Shan’s hand. It was cold and wet from being wrapped around the condensed cocktail glass. He held those slim fingers in his own. Skimmed his thumb across the scabbed knuckles. He wanted to kiss the swell of his palm. Suck on those blunt, squared nails.  

“I prefer sunrises over sunsets. I hate long walks on the beach. I’d rather be riding waves or chasing sea turtles,” He Tian blurted in one breath.  

The startled look on Guan Shan’s face afforded him an innocence and purity that He Tian hadn’t seen on anyone past puberty.  

A sunny smile complemented the expression.  

“I make a mean beef stir-fry,” Guan Shan offered. “Jackfruit gives me hives. Also, sand in your crack is overrated.”  

He Tian felt a grin stretch his face. “I can picture us at the beach. I’d be waxing my board. You’d be… crushing watermelons with your thighs.”  

Guan Shan laughed. The sound like a  _konghou_ in a thunderstorm.  

“My thighs can be gentle.” He insisted, his leg stroking He Tian’s under the table. “Let me guess. There’s also a ridiculously jubilant mutt in this scenario. Because, obviously, you’re a dog person.”  

“She’ll grow on you.” He Tian assured, momentarily dazed when Guan Shan hooked an ankle around his calf. And squeezed. Like a python around its prey.  

Restricting. Rending. Relentless.  

It gave him a giddy headrush.  

No. There was nothing gentle about those legs.  

Guan Shan’s sunny smile turned wry. “Mmm, yeah. All that dog slobber.”  

“See? You’re warming up to her already.” He Tian replied, the allure of a beach day together shimmering through him.   

“Does skinny-dipping feature at any point during this screenplay or is it strictly PG?”  

“The pups would be scandalised.”  

“Of course.” Guan Shan somehow managed a slo-mo eye-roll. “It has  _puppies_.”  

A moment passed where no words were traded. Just teasing looks teetering on indecent. The touch of their hands. The tangle of their legs. The trace of their thirst thick between them.  

“I bet you tan real pretty.” He Tian ventured, voice rough with an appetence he’d never known.  

“If plucked-chicken pink is your idea of pretty, sure.”  

Their laughter carried through the bar. Bounced off the dark, unbuffed wood. Imbued the air with their playfulness.  

Guan Shan looked down at their intertwined hands.  

And He Tian felt a shift in him.  

“What are we doing?” The redhead whispered.  

“Huh?”  

The twinkle in those scarlet eyes withered. “What are we doing?” He repeated. “Baring our souls like it’ll mean anything in the morning?”  

Before He Tian could answer, Guan Shan had disentangled himself. Stood up. Turned away.  

“Taking a leak,” he muttered. And marched off.  

What?  

What just happened?  

He Tian stared at the empty seat. The inside of his leg still warm from where the other man had been. His fingers damp from where they’d connected.  

He was so preoccupied with his puzzlement that he didn’t hear the approaching steps. Heavy. Hurried.  

And then Guan Shan was pulling him up by the fabric of his sweater. And away from the booth.  

“Come hold my dick for me.” 


	15. Chapter 15

The hubbub in the bar was a background hum. Subdued by the harmony of their heavy breathing. His every hiss, moan, hitch was a conjunct motion. A melody to He Tian’s ears. The rhythm of their hips as they gyrated against each other at a hypnotic tempo was tortuous.  

Intoxicating.  

He Tian lapped at the wound on his neck. And Guan Shan writhed against the wall. Against him. Stuttering prayers or profanities in a language He Tian couldn’t place.  

He nibbled a path from the bitemark, and up the tendons of a taut neck, thrown back. Licked the shell of his ear. Kissed the freckle on his temple.  

“You drive me in-fucking-sane,” He Tian whispered.  

“Yeah?” Guan Shan slid his hands up He Tian’s shoulders. Scratched at the short hairs at his tapered neckline. “Serves you right. How am I expected to take down a beast in a fight when there’s a pretty boy terrorising me with his fuck-me eyes?”  

He Tian chuckled. Embarrassed by the transparency of his infatuation. And ecstatic that he had that effect on him. On The Flying Fox.  

“I can’t help it.” He admitted, skimming his hands down Guan Shan’s back. The leather stiff and stubborn. There were way too many layers of clothing between them. “You really think that? That I’m pretty?”  

“Yes.” Guan Shan peered at him, lips pursed. “And even more when – ” Tugging at He Tian’s V-neck, Guan Shan grunted with the effort it took to shred the sweater down the centre. “Oh, yeah. Cray pretty.”  

He grazed his fingers over He Tian’s pecs, then ran the side of his palm down the groove between them. “See this ridge?Made for my cock.”  

 _Fuck._   

“How do you do that?” He Tian asked, his soul aching with need, need, need. Gripping that slim waist, he tried to anchor himself. Keep himself upright. Standing. Sober.  

“Do what?”  

“You make me wanna… surrender to you.”  

A roseate hue coloured Guan Shan’s cheeks. He looked away. “I don’t…”  

He Tian cupped his jaw. Tipped it so Guan Shan was looking up at him again.  

“If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.” He finally said with half a smirk. “Maybe work that magic in the ring.”   

“No, you won’t.” He Tian growled, grinding his crotch into Guan Shan’s.  

He relished the way the smaller man’s body convulsed against his. The quake of his Adam’s apple. The quiver of his lips.  

Ah.  

Those lips.  

Pink. Plump. Poised.  

He lowered his head. Just a taste. That’s all he wanted.   

Guan Shan turned his head at the last moment and He Tian’s lips caressed the corner of his mouth. The traces of Midori, pineapple and Malibu rum teased his palate. Pried apart his pretension.  

He Tian could see an apology forming on his face. An excuse emerging behind his eyes.  

“Don’t,” he mumbled. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything.”  

For half a beat, Guan Shan was frozen. Then his hands were on He Tian again. Pulling him close. Impossibly close. Scorching a course down and over the trajectory of his chest. Trailing the ravines of his abs. Sailing back up to circle his nipples.  

“I might not owe you anything,” Guan Shan breathed. “But you definitely owe me.”  

“Anything.” He Tian replied, his own hands nowhere near as gentle. Digging into the grey denim around Guan Shan’s hips. The grip a delectable traction against his fingertips.  

“Remember all those watermelons you made me crush?”  

“I didn’t  _make_  – “  

“Well, I’m normally all for sticky juices running down my thighs.” Guan Shan rolled He Tian’s nipples between his fingers. “Just not… the fruit juice kind.”  

He Tian’s cock throbbed against his fly. And throbbed. And  _throbbed._   

“You wanna fuck my legs?” Guan Shan looked up at him from under his lashes. And something inside He Tian cracked.  

He stepped back. Unsnapped the top button of his chinos. Snagged the zipper down.  

“Fuck, Guan Shan.” He pulled the waistband of his boxers down and tucked it under his balls. His cock was hot and hard in his own hand. Even the light press of his palm sent a prickling pleasure through him. “ _Fuck._ ”  

“ _Yes._ ” A glazed look offset the blaze in Guan Shan’s stare. He turned around. Faced the wall. Started undoing his jeans.  

He Tian watched as a pert, peach-shaped ass jiggled out of the dark denim.  

Did the man  _ever_  wear underwear?  

Guan Shan bent forward slightly to push his pants past his knees. And He Tian caught sight of his ballsack. A pastel coral pendulating between two pale legs.  

He’d never had a man’s junk in his mouth before. Had never indulged the idea. And yet the display before him – a pair of nuts dangling like a delicious treat – made him salivate.  

He had an urgent desire to suck. Sniff. Savour. His own sack drawing tight at the thought.  

Before he could put the proposal into words, He Tian was distracted by a short-lived sparkle between those lithe legs. Guan Shan righted himself and –   

There it was again.  

A fleeting flair that caught the light just right.  

“What… is that?” He Tian titled his head and stepped forward.  

Looking over his shoulder, Guan Shan wiggled his ass. “It’s called a butt. I believe the scientific term is booty, but maybe don’t quote me on that.”  

“You dork,” He Tian said with affection. Squatting down, he slid his hands up, from the outer cut of Guan Shan’s quads up to the slope of his glutes. His thumbs resting against the creases, the tips not quite touching. “Can I?”  

In lieu of a response, Guan Shan stuck his ass out further.  

Pulling his left cheek away from the centre, He Tian ignored the way his hands trembled with the thrill of being this close to Guan Shan’s heat. He explored the territory behind his balls, and the warmth of Guan Shan’s taint torched his fingers.  

There.  

A cool, solid, curved piece of metal.  

Against Guan Shan’s smooth, fair skin, the guiche piercing was a risqué addition. The rose gold glinted at him and He Tian decided he’d never seen anything so erotic.  

He teased the flesh around the circular barbell and watched as Guan Shan’s thighs tensed. He pulled at the jewellery.  

Just.  

A teasing.  

Tug.  

And almost blew his load when Guan Shan swore, loud and ardent, his body arching, his feet almost off the ground.  

There was no way the other patrons hadn’t heard him.  

 _Shit._   

In his scurry to stand up, He Tian almost landed on his own ass. Twice.  Warily, he wrapped his arms around the other man. Hugged him from behind. He could feel the laboured rise and fall of Guan Shan’s chest as he recovered.   

“I’m sorry.” He Tian murmured, nuzzling him behind his ear.   

Guan Shan pressed into him, and He Tian’s cock settled onto the swell of that saucy ass. He angled his neck for more attention and He Tian complied. Peppering his apology over the flutter of Guan Shan’s pulse.  

“No, you’re not,” Guan Shan hissed as He Tian’s mouth, once again, blistered past last night’s bite.  

He Tian spotted it then. Guan Shan’s erection. The flushed tip of his cock glistening.  

Leaking, leaking, leaking.  

He was harder than He Tian was. He’d got off on it. On the pain. On the pleasure in the pain.  

“No,” He Tian hummed. “No, I’m not.”  

“Fucker,” Guan Shan quipped with a small laugh. He laced their fingers together, his hands settling on top of He Tian’s. “Have you got supplies?”  

“Huh?”  

“Condoms. Lube. You know, the stuff they don’t teach you in porn.”  

“Uhm. No. I didn’t bring – I mean, I didn’t… wanna presume,” he stammered. Feeling awkward. He never carried a condom on his person. He didn’t do impromptu sexual encounters.  

Well, he didn’t used to.  

“It isn’t about presuming,” Guan Shan argued. “It’s about being prepared.” He rifled through the pockets of the leather jacket. “Lucky for you, my last hook-up was a little more… presumptuous.”

Guan Shan pulled out a square packet with a pair of proud cherries printed on the front.  

Ah, fuck. 

That awkward feeling from before was nothing compared to the shame coursing through He Tian now. Any hope he had of convincing Guan Shan he was a gentleman was thoroughly quashed.  

He’d forgotten he’d broughtKaelin’s fancy fuck lube to a fight club. For fuck’s sake. Who did that?  

“My condoms won’t fit you,” Guan Shan continued, unaware of He Tian’s inner discourse. He ripped open the foil packet. Drizzled the glossy contents onto his palm. “Nice. You didn’t skimp out.”  

“This is more than just a quick fuck, Guan Shan,” he attempted to explain.  

“With this stuff?” Guan Shan grabbed He Tian’s cock with his lubed-up hand. The silky strokes severed ties with the head between He Tian’s shoulders, and sent sexy-time signals to his other head. “There’ll be nothing quick about this. This silicone stuff’s designed to  _last_.”  

Except. He Tian knew he wouldn’t last as long.  

He pulled his cock out from Guan Shan’s slippery grasp. Seized both his hands in his own. Pressed them against the wall.  

Hard.  

And the smaller man gasped.  

“Do we – do we need a safe word?” He loved the sounds spilling from Guan Shan’s lips and worried he might grow to love them too much.  

“If either of us says ‘stop’, we stop. It’s as simple as that.”  

Only there was nothing simple about the way Guan Shan curved his spine.  The way his shoulderblades shifted under the leather. The way he assumed a stance that made his ass look even more supple than before.  

He Tian lined his cock and Guan Shan’s thighs pressed in from either side. He could feel the chill of the guiche bling against his shaft. The velvety smoothness of Guan Shan’s ballsack at his tip. And, above all, he could feel the blinding heat of him. A hearth that plunged his length in a molten heaven.  

“Ready when you are,” Guan Shan mused a minute later. “The lube is quality but it can’t do _all_  your work for you.”  

Guan Shan had a mouth on him, that was for sure.  

He Tian took hold of those hips, the skin still sizzling from when he’d gripped them before.  

“There aren’t any cameras here, are there?” 

Earlier, Guan Shan had led them past an obscure restroom sign and down a dead-end corridor. The bar room was only round the corner and the sound carried. But, at least for the most part, their bare asses were out of sight.  

“What?” Guan Shan protested. “Less talk, more fuck.”  

He Tian angled himself to start thrusting between toned thighs.  

But.  

Guan Shan was worth more than dishonesty. He deserved more than a coward.  

“My brother has cameras in the locker room. He has us… the whole… he has it all on file.”  

“Your brother?” Guan Shan asked. “Why would your brother have –”  

“I’ll get him to delete it. He’ll be a dick about it but he’ll do it. You don’t have to worry about –”  

“He Tian,” Guan Shan interrupted, his voice sonorous, and completely at odds with how he had sounded a second ago. “Why would your brother have cameras in the club?”  

Confused, He Tian stated what he thought was obvious. “For security purposes.”  

Guan Shan snatched his hands out from under He Tian’s and spun around to face him. He had never seen those scarlet eyes so enraged. So revolted.  

“So your brother works security at the club?” Guan Shan challenged.  

“No.”  _What the fuck was going on?_  “He owns it.”  

“Your brother.” Guan Shan wasn’t even looking at him anymore. “He Cheng.” He nodded to himself. Like it all made sense now.  

And yet it made fuck all sense to He Tian.  

“Guan Shan, what’s wrong?” He tried to take him into his arms, but Guan Shan pushed him back. The force like nothing He Tian had experienced outside of a few unforgettable fistfights. The rebuff like nothing he’d ever felt in his life.  

“Touch me again and I will end you.” The fury on his face snuffed out all frivolity and He Tian didn’t recognise the man before him.  

The redhead turned away. Pulled his pants up. Looked up one last time. 

His glare fierce. Affronted. 

Forlorn. 

“You people make me  _sick._ ”  

Then he was gone.  

And He Tian was left with his cock out. His nips hard. And his soul in more tatters than his sweater could ever be.


	16. Chapter 16

Yesterday 23:35

**You:**  yo what the fuck 

 **Big bro** **:**  ? 

 

Today 00:15 

**You:**  what 

 **You:**  the 

 **You:**  ever

 **You:** loving 

 **You:**  FUCK

 

Today 02:10 

**You:**  ffffffuuuuucccckkkkk

 

Today 06:05 

**Big bro:** Okay 

 **Big bro:** Whose ass am I kicking

 

Today 06:10

**Big bro:** It’s not mine, is it

 

Today 08:00

**You:**  call me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heartfelt HNY to all you beautiful people. I didn't think this fic would garner much love and I've never enjoyed being so wrong.  
> Showers all you thirsty folk with naughty confetti.  
> Thank you x


	17. Chapter 17

Cabs chasing fares. Folk chasing dreams. Traffic chasing tail.

The incessant fog concealed a restless city and reduced the nightlife to a chromatic bokeh that resonated with his own sense of scattered focus.

Pointless.

Without purpose.

The view from his brother’s penthouse never did anything for him.

He looked up and the suburban sky did not have much more to offer. The illusion of a constellation like smudged chalk on dark construction paper. Not like last night, or the night before, or the night before that. Burning rubber at an abandoned military airstrip. Chasing stars so bright they stained his retinas with their brilliance.

Psh. Like the R8 and its ten cylinders had any chance of scoring.

Like he had any chance of scoring.

He closed his eyes. Rested his forehead against the floor-to-ceiling window. Feeling hollow.

He breathed in. Slow. And he was there again.

The sweet redolence of racer fuel soaking his sinuses. The astringent fumes from a burnout making his eyes water. The nitrous-boosted horsepower of Japanese imports tasing his eardrums.

A high-octane thrill that thrummed through his bones. Made him feel alive. Worthy.

Perhaps worthy enough of a man who, with one look, could turn him inside out. Who, in one breath, had turned his world upside down.

And He Tian couldn’t remember which way was up.

The dulcet ding of the apartment’s elevator brought him back to the present.

A curt scuffle of shoes being kicked off. The clatter of a kitchen drawer being scoured. The susurrus whisper of socked feet against porcelain tiles.

“Bestie here to crash your one-man pity party.” His bedroom door was ajar and Jian Yi’s scintillating cadence crossed it like a charm. “Are you decent?”

“Physically or mentally?” He Tian asked, studying the reflection before him. The circles under his eyes like sinkholes sucking all meaning. Reason. Ambition.

He _hated_ this.

“Okay. Wow.” Jian Yi traipsed into the room. “Are you challenging me for my drama queer status? I feel threatened.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He Tian turned his back to the city. Eyed the Santoku knife, metre-long stalk and six-pack in his friend’s arsenal. “I hope you brought the hard stuff.”

Jian Yi unloaded and made himself comfortable in the centre of He Tian’s unmade king. Like a man who did not know fear, he uncapped two glass bottles with the back edge of Ria’s most treasured culinary utensil.

“Your liver and my ticker approve of these treats.” Jian Yi handed him the non-alcoholic drink before making quick work of the bamboo-like stalk.

_Scritch, scritch, scritch._

He Tian traced the cool lip of the bottle with the pad of his thumb, not unlike the way he had traced a certain someone’s cupid’s bow.

“So,” Jian Yi said into the silence that stretched between them.

“So,” He Tian echoed.

When did he start feeling so… tired?

“I wanna say trouble in paradise but you aren’t stupid enough to get yourself killed over a boy.”

_Scritch, scritch, scritch._

Leaning against the window, He Tian sighed.

“I don’t get it,” Jian Yi admitted. “You grab a lane on a drag strip. Throw caution, along with everyone who cares about you, to the wind. And go full throttle. Are you cheating death or chasing after it?”

_Scritch, scritch._

“It’s all over WeChat, bee-tee-dubs. Your muscle Audi racing tuner cars. And that ridiculous drift? You know, the one where you totally trashed your car.”

_Scriiitch._

“Very Hollywood. Up until the moment you tripped over your own feet trying to escape the wreckage.”

“My laces were untied.” He Tian grumbled. Slugged some ginger beer. The bitter orange scraped his taste buds, the spicy ginger base stripped what was left, and, just when he thought he could breathe again, a wave of flaming hot chilli pepper shredded the back of his throat. “ _Son of a –”_

“So you being all trippy has nothing to do with the ugly gash on your head?” Jian Yi threw a skinned sugarcane in his direction and He Tian grabbed the piece one-handed. Bit into the fibrous flesh. The rush of floral sweetness soothed the rawness inside his mouth.

“Well, you’ve at least got your coordination back.” Jian Yi remarked drily, taking a swallow of his own drink and chasing it with the sugary stalk.

“Is it really that ugly?” Frowning, He Tian gingerly prodded the cut on his forehead.

Jian Yi gave him a look. “No. You look like a sexed-up warrior. Don’t fish for compliments when I’m trying to chew you out.”

“Sorry.” He Tian hid a smile behind the pretence of taking another sip of the fiery fizz. It felt foreign. He hadn’t smiled in a fortnight.

“As I was saying,” Jian Yi continued. “You aren’t stupid enough to take up street racing because things turned sour with your little fighter friend.”

He Tian looked out the window. No amount of fog would shield him from his best friend’s shrewdness.

“You’re right.” He yielded.

“But something did happen between you two?”

He Tian shrugged. “It isn’t about him.”

“You broke up.”

“We weren’t together.”

“And now he doesn’t wanna see you again.”

A sudden tightness in his chest made him flinch. “I wouldn’t wanna see me again either.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, if I were him. In his position. A good upbringing. A good family. And a guy like me, with my history, my heritage, wanted to…” He didn’t know how to put into words what he wanted. There weren’t any words. Just a deep-seated desire that had taken root and spawned further relentless desires. “He goes to that swanky dance school in Nanbu.”

Jian Yi let out a low whistle. “What’s a kid like that doing fighting dirtbags in a ditch?”

“I don’t know.” He Tian confessed quietly. There were so many things he didn’t know. Who taught him how to fight? Why was his hair so red? Could you laugh with an accent? Because he couldn’t explain why else Guan Shan’s laughter had sounded so non-native. Alien. Celestial.

“But if your roles were reversed,” Jian Yi suggested. “And, instead, he was the son of China’s deadliest dragon head and was raised on the ethos of the most ruthless triad this side of Tibet. What if he was the one who took a blood oath to lead and protect the underworld? Would you want him any less?”

The tightness in He Tian’s chest grew until he felt like he was at the mercy of Mariana Trench and her bottomless cavern, being crushed from the inside and all sides. “I wouldn’t know how.”

Making an impatient sound, Jian Yi opened his arms and made a flapping motion with his hands. He Tian covered the distance between them in two long, resolute strides. Their drinks sloshed as he descended onto the mattress and tumbled into his friend’s embrace.

“I hate that this is who I am.” His voice sounded ragged, raspy, and he blamed the damn beer. “Even if he wanted me, I wouldn’t want me for him.”

“But he did want you. What happened?”

Inhaling the fragrance of verbena in Jian Yi’s hair and vanilla on his skin, He Tian was reminded of simpler times. Sleepovers, blanket forts and pillow fights. Sneaking into his brother’s room, swiping cigarettes and skin mags. And promptly returning said mags. A young Jian Yi parading in the nanny’s petticoat and platform heels. And looking outrageous. And epic.

“He didn’t know that He Cheng and I were related.”

“And your brother’s got a rep.”

“Yeah. Except He Cheng’s never wronged him. Not personally.”

“But someone did,” Jian Yi guessed.

“He… stands out, you know. With his hellfire hair and snow-fair skin. But he’s earned his place in the pit. He gives as good as he gets. When he signed up, the guy who manages the club tried to put him off. Said he didn’t have the look. The skills. He Cheng told me the fucker had even offered him shifts at that strip joint in Beihu.” His fist clenched around the neck of the glass bottle and he heard a crack. “And when that didn’t work, he threatened him.”

“Who is this jackass?” Jian Yi demanded, indignant. “So your boy thinks you’re part of this asinine scheme?”

“I told him that there were cameras in the locker room and he flipped.” He Tian closed his eyes against the memory.

“And if that clip of him playing with your aux cord got around he’d never be able to fight there again.”

He Tian withdrew from Jian Yi’s warmth. “That’s best-case scenario.”

“Worse-case scenario being the gay-bashing brawlers have a field day. His limbs end up dog chew and his torso fish food in the Jinsha.”

“He Cheng got rid. And gave me the pleasure of sacking that prick.”

“You literally put him in a sack, didn’t you?” Jian Yi raised a brow. Tried to appear disapproving. Failed.

“Fuck yeah.” He Tian clinked their glass bottles together. And, this time, when he slugged the ginger beer, he relished the scorch.

Jian Yi watched him, something unreadable passing in his pale eyes.

“I didn’t kill him, Jian Yi.”

“I know.” He brushed He Tian’s dark bangs to the side and studied the wound there. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’ve spent the last two weeks trying to get yourself killed over a misunderstanding.”

“He didn’t misunderstand, though. This is who I am. I am not above getting my hands dirty. I was… born with blood on my hands.”

“There isn’t a single saint in that fight club. In the crowd or in the cage. He knew what he wanted when he wanted you.” Jian Yi picked up the knife, chopped off another section of stalk, cut through the bark.

_Scritch, scritch._

“You know what I think? I think you don’t hate who you are. The triad life is the only one you’ve ever known. Those men are your brothers.”

_Scritch._

“Your father starts a war and you’re on the frontline. Not because of your loyalty for him, but because you would bleed and break and lay your life down rather than lose any one of them.”

_Scritch, scritch, scritch._

“And it scares you that you would do the same for a boy you barely know. Nah, you don’t hate who you are. You hate who you are _with him._ How weak he makes you. You, a badass mobster with China’s black societies at his beck and call, submitting to a boy because he made your heart stutter.”

The cracked glass sliced through He Tian’s fingers. Stinging. But it didn’t even begin to compare to the blade of Jian Yi’s words. Stripping him tenderly to the bone.

“These last few nights,” He Tian finally said, tongue like a shovel inside a sandbox. “The racing… I don’t have a death wish.”

“You were grieving,” Jian Yi supplied. Kindly. “You big, fat coward.” Not so kindly.

Lying on his back, He Tian studied the coffered ceiling. “How do I stop wanting him?”

“You don’t.” Jian Yi crunched into his sugarcane. “You go get him.”

“And if he ends up being the death of me?”

“You die happy. And if that isn’t the point, then what is?”

He turned his gaze towards Jian Yi, who was busy trying to catch trails of sticky juice trickling down his chin. With the back of both hands. A carnage of beer spilling in spectacular arcs onto the sheets, a scatter of bark and bagasse on the bed. And his best friend in the middle of it all.

Oblivious.

And He Tian had never felt so blessed.


	18. Chapter 18

The sizeable room, overlaid with a sheet of sheer iridescence, was silent and serene in the quiet. A starry-night lava lamp in the corner worked overtime, casting spells of spectral gold, glitz and grandeur. The shadows of sombre furniture unfurled, stumbling and swooning around slumberous boys.

They were both on their sides, facing opposite walls, not quite asleep but not quite awake either. Floating on the periphery of a feels-induced narcosis. Because dishing the truth and taking it was an emotional warfare neither of them had been prepared for.

He Tian straightened his legs and was rewarded with the tinkling tumble of an empty beer bottle as it rolled off the edge of the mattress, and splintered bark as it bit his ass.

“You’ve seriously fucked up my bed.” He said with a growl, the mirth in his voice undermining his mock anger. His palms were stiff with dried blood and plant sap.

“Not as much you fucked up your car.” Came a drowsy retort, and an equally drowsy kick to his calf.

“It’ll buff right out,” he replied. Lying. His ride was well and truly wrecked. Damn. He’d been lucky to have escaped relatively intact. “Is there really footage of that going around?”

“Oh, yeah. Superb shots of you just… spinning.” Jian Yi took his cell phone out. “When He Cheng finds out he is so gonna toast your ass. And never gift you a car for your twenty-first ever again.” He tapped on his phone a couple of times. “Have a look-see.”

He Tian stretched a kink out of his lower back with a satisfying crink. Leaned closer to Jian Yi.

“Also, I was restraining myself before because, you know, one ugly truth at a time, but you reek of smoked joints and smoking tyres. I’m gagging.”

“Sorry. I didn’t shower last night.” He’d been dazed when he got back, coming down from a nitromethane high, recovering from being thrown about like a ragdoll in a matchbox, the howling from a herd of spectators still ringing in his ears. An empathetic gearhead had given him a lift back to the city just before dawn.

He Tian reached for Jian Yi’s phone.

“Is that blood? When – How did – You were nowhere _near_ the knife!” Jian Yi bellowed, bouncing off the bed. “You’re taking this sexed-up warrior thing too far.” He rushed out of the room, leaving a stream of stalk shards in his wake.

To the clangour of kitchen cabinets being ransacked, He Tian uncapped another beer and rested his back against the pillows. His thumb was hovering over the play button when a text notification popped up.

‘As requested. Groomed pussy.’

He Tian’s eyes widened at the preview of the message. And he felt himself blush with postulation. And questions. So many questions.

He made to swipe the notification to the side – because Jian Yi’s right to privacy would always overwrite his quest for answers – but tacky sugarcane juice on the screen meant that his thumb lingered too long. And opened the text.

_Shit._

A captioned photo of a grumpy-looking Persian cat. Its chinchilla coat gleaming and glamorous.

And He Tian felt a little guilty for his inference.

Until he appraised the sinewy arm carrying the animal. With its thick wrist and thicker muscles. Sprinkled with a few telling scratch marks, old and new. It held the sullen cat against a bare chest. Broad. Chiselled. Deliberately shirtless.

Real subtle. And He Tian rolled his eyes.

But a new man in Jian Yi’s life would explain a lot. Like, why over the last few weeks, the sunshine flooding his soul was less frequently eclipsed by his dark silences. Douchey nudes notwithstanding, He Tian liked the guy already and briefly wondered why introductions hadn’t been made yet.

He tossed the phone to the side before Sir Crafted Obliques could send further photos in the name of feline-appreciation. Sat up straighter when Jian Yi pranced into the room, hefting a toolbox, his bun looking more tousled than when he’d left.

“Seriously, your first aid kit should be more accessible.” The mattress dipped under the weight of it.

When wrestling mortal wounds, not unlike his brother, He Tian was more of a mean Jack Daniel’s and duct tape kinda guy – and he figured enough Tennessee Fire in the face of a fatal wound would guarantee his reincarnation as a hellhound. He was tempted to remind his oldest and closest bud that He Cheng had only acquired the box after a twelve-year-old Jian Yi had an argument with a curling iron – and lost – but, instead, he shuffled closer and unsnapped the chrome clasps.

“Are those…” Jian Yi reeled back. Slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God. You need to move out.”

“Why would –” Bemused, He Tian prodded the purple lace with the end of a tube of antiseptic cream. “Why are there panties in the first aid box?”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” Jian Yi reprimanded, taking the tube off him. “And they are clearly Ria’s. Let’s not reflect on scenarios that would require her to cast her lingerie in such an uncouth manner. Or, you know, have someone cast them on her behalf.”

He Tian fished out tweezers from under the bandages and continued his inspection of the garment. “They look a bit… small for Ria.”

“He Tian!” Jian Yi yelled, grabbing the instrument from him. “Stop harassing it. Look, I’ll help you hunt for an apartment. It’s about time those two lovebirds had the nest to themselves.”

‘Lovebird’ was not a term He Tian would associate with his brother, or his brother’s girlfriend. Their relationship was a battlefield; all strategy, savagery and take-no-prisoners. ‘Birds of prey’ was infinitely more fitting.

When he used a pair of trauma shears to isolate the label, Jian Yi pinched the nape of his neck. “Okay, okay. No more pestering the panties,” he hissed.

“Huh. Funny that,” Jian Yi said softly. “We shop at the same store.”

It was comical watching the realisation slowly dawn on his face. Colour creeping onto his cheeks.

“They aren’t hers, are they?” He Tian theorised, now twirling the underwear around the end of the scissors. Taunting.

Jian Yi pouted petulantly before snatching them. He bunched them up. Stuffed them into his back pocket.

“When you’re ready,” He Tian teased.

“I can’t remember exactly…”

“Oh?”

Throwing him a nasty look, Jian Yi picked up the alcohol wipes and started cleaning the smeared blood off He Tian’s slit hand. “It musta been when I nicked myself shaving,” he declared.

“Right. Because that makes so much sense.” He Tian winced as Jian Yi grew more abrasive with his ministrations.

“Shaving down there, you ignorant ass.”

“Ah.” And, just like that, he didn’t wanna know anymore.

“But I don’t now.” Jian Yi continued. Rambling. “Shave, that is. I’m not about that three-day itch. Or, you know, castrating myself. Because it didn’t matter how careful I was, I always ended up with a nick or ten.”

“Jian Yi –”

“Waxing means I’m smooth for weeks. When I went Brazilian for the first time –”

_“Jian Yi.”_

 “What?”

“I love you and everything but I really, really, don’t wanna talk about your boy bits.”

“Uhm, hello? We’re talking about my boy lawn. You’re acting like I’m telling you about the time I measured how much lower my left nut was compared to my right, which, by the way –”

He Tian tackled him. And spent the next twenty minutes trying to mummify a struggling Jian Yi in roller gauze.


	19. Chapter 19

**Big bro:** Ria wants to know who’s been fucking with her Santowhatsit knife

 **You:** ask your lil bro

 **Big bro** : ?

 **You:** the one with the disney princess hair

 **Big bro:** You would throw Jian Yi under a bus like that? Man up and take the beats

 **You:** yours or Ria’s

 **Big bro:** Ria

 **You:** fuck no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I've had such a rough week and I need so much TianShan in my life rn.


	20. Chapter 20

He remembers being back at the fight club for the first time since his unplanned absence.

He’d been absent before, of course, and for longer; MIT, holidays overseas, that time he’d broken his ankle attempting an alpha flip on a friend’s skateboard. He was such a dumbass in his freshman year.

His comeback felt different this time though. And he wasn’t leaving the club til he got what he came for.

He leaned against the concrete wall. Inhaled. The air was crisp, the undercurrents of mildew and male perspiration curtailed by the new exhaust system. Not pure, exactly, but definitely a lot less like poison. The cheering and chanting on the floor above him peaked and the quassation of a stirred crowd sent tremors through the foundations of the building.

His phone vibrated with an incoming text; he’d asked Hyson to let him know when the fight ended.

> **Hy:** Fang tapped out.

He hadn’t seen the fox fight in a while, and it felt like forever. He’d even held himself back from watching the replays on the security tapes. He’d won every match since their dissolution at the 135. He Tian’s delight and dismay over that fact engendered a disharmony he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with.

The staccato syncopation of bare feet on cracked screed cut through the stampede of the baboons barking one floor up. Wanting to catch him before he lost him to the locker room, He Tian pushed off from the wall and stepped out into the sketchy light.

Guan Shan stumbled. Blinked wide.

He Tian put it down to him appearing without warning, rather than deluding himself by ascribing any deeper meaning to it. He tilted his head to indicate the darkened corner he’d been waiting in and didn’t look to see if Guan Shan would follow. Just hoped to fuck that he did. Jian Yi had pulled the plug on his plan B.

Wisely.

He Tian took his spot against the wall. And Guan Shan stopped before him. Arms crossed. Towel slung over a shoulder.

_Holy shit._

He’d never seen him like this before. Fresh from the ring and within touching distance.

Drenched. Flushed. The veins in his arms prominent, popping, provocative.

Liquid vigour curled the crimson locks of his hair into captivating little curlicues against a glistening brow. Perspiration slithered down the escarpments of his neck, pooling into the hollows above his collarbones. Some had even collected on his lashes, silver-lined drops that sparkled with each flutter.

And – _fuck_ – his nipples. They were all cranberry-pink and soubrette-like and the complete opposite of coy.  

“Oi, my eyes are up here.” Guan Shan drawled. A little breathless.

Dammit.

He Tian looked up. “Five wins in a row. That a personal record?”

“Maybe.” Guan Shan narrowed his eyes at him. “Might be something to do with the new management.” He remarked, meaningfully.

“Might be.” He Tian mirrored, with just as much meaning.

They deliberated in silence for a few beats. The only sound between them the laboured breathing of a man who refused to be beaten, and the softer breathing of another on the verge of breaking.

Guan Shan’s nose flared. Once. Twice. And He Tian wondered how out of breath he was. Perhaps they should do this sitting down.

Wait _._

Was he _smelling_ him?

Then, out of nowhere, Guan Shan was all up in He Tian’s space, sniffing the skin just above the neckline of his Schiesser Henley shirt. He brought with him a heat wave on the backdrop of fresh sweat, man musk and victory. Purring in appreciation, He Tian felt his balls shift in their sac.

“Why do you smell like Satan’s whorehouse?” Guan Shan spat out, stepping back.

_What?_

“Uh…”

How did he explain that he’d been looking for Ria at The Lounge, and had only managed to catch her in the den when she’d finished supervising a scene?

“My brother was in a six-month-long feud with this biker over a, uh, traffic dispute and he bought her family’s classy bar to spite her, so she turned the place into a leather club to spite him back. And now she’s chief manager and house dom and cooks nihari for my brother on Valentine’s Day and tolerates his serenading on White Day. So, yeah, I had a thing I needed to do and swung by the bar on my way here.” He Tian monologued, cringing at the unnecessary details he’d divulged.

“Is that what you call your little side piece trick?” The stardust swirling in Guan Shan’s eyes winked at him. “‘A thing’?”

“There isn’t a side piece trick, little fox. Just you. Front and centre.”

Guan Shan harrumphed.

“Call me little one more time and we’re gonna have some problems." Not breaking eye contact, he swiped the towel from his shoulder and patted the expanse of his pectorals, soaking up the lustre that had settled between and under them. He wiped the cotton over his nipples in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the moisture on his chest and everything to do with the moisture in He Tian’s mouth.

Drawing close, Guan Shan slung the towel around He Tian’s neck. Rubbed it up and down his nape, over his clavicles, along his jawline. “Better,” he whispered. And then a little louder, “There’s a burger joint right off JX3, before the G75 splits. Meet me there in half an hour.”

With that, Guan Shan turned on his heel and rounded the corner.

He Tian stood there, as still as his nerves would allow.  The wank bait towel draped over his shoulders. His heart tap dancing to a spastic beat. And Guan Shan’s scent a mouthwatering aperitif on the tip of his tongue.

He felt so _owned._

And he fucking loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost feel like I should apologise for the torrent of updates... It's all that post exam liberation.  
> Find me on Tumblr [i-got-these-words]. I bite on request ~


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To set the scene, I would recommend Zideqinshe's beautiful performance.  
> (Don't be a bitch-ass, just listen to it.)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tlsev6ZepqE

Glittering in the half moonlight, broken glass littered the blackened tarmac. The smoky aroma of grilled beef weighed down a light breeze and blanketed the telltale traces of a building that had burned to the ground. There were about thirty or so individuals in the lot, huddled around in small groups, biting into burgers, passing blunts, or swaying to the _guqin_ solo streaming from a wireless speaker.

The ‘burger joint’ turned out to be a sun-weathered _nǎinai_ flipping steaks on an outdoor griddle. From the cargo bed of a rusty two-door pickup truck that was riper than she was. Against a canvas of charred and crumbling remains, remnants of the gas station that had once been.

His recollection of the details of the blast was vague at best; he’d been in Boston at the time and only a few weeks away from graduation. There’d been several casualties, perhaps a death or two.

He Tian rested against Ria’s Yamaha R1, studying Guan Shan, who was a few yards away, exchanging words with the woman at the back of the pickup. She looked every inch the poor farmer’s wife with her rawboned build and frayed rice hat. And Guan Shan didn’t look entirely out of place in his flimsy tank top and well-worn shorts. They swapped notes and paper plates.

Turning his attention to the deathtrap of a bicycle that Guan Shan had ridden in on, He Tian was reminded of the night he’d chased a redheaded ghost in a monsoon storm. It seemed so long ago, and yet his burning desire to dismantle the bike raged on. His thoughts stuttered to a halt as Guan Shan returned, carrying plates that sagged under the weight of their steaming contents. He Tian relieved him of one and grabbed one of the water bottles Guan Shan had tucked under an arm.

“Thanks.” He Tian said, picking one of the three burgers off his plate. “These smell great.” And they did. He was salivating before he took his first bite. The grilled steak was succulent, seared on the outside and tender on the inside, with a peppercorn kick that made him moan.

Across from him, Guan Shan looked up from his own meal.

“Easy,” he smirked. “Someone might think you were having sex with the steak.”

“They wouldn’t be far off.” He Tian sucked the juice from the V between his thumb and forefinger.

One-handed, Guan Shan uncapped his bottle. Guzzled some water. “You don’t watch yourself I might use the rest of this to cool you down.”

He Tian smiled at the faux threat, a warm and fuzzy feeling unfolding inside of him that had nothing to do with the flavourful meat. When a mental motion picture of him and Guan Shan intruded, the two of them wet from a water fight and wrapped around each other, he looked away.

The last thing he needed was a semi whilst professing his appreciation for the gustatory arts.

He started on his second burger, not prepared for the hit of paprika vinaigrette. And, though he’d tried to hold back, a whimper broke free.

“Now that’s just indecent,” Guan Shan remarked. Laughter lurking at the corners of his lips. He leaned forward and, with his thumb, dabbed at the edge of He Tian’s mouth.

Before he could second guess himself, He Tian’s arm shot out. Caught Guan Shan’s wrist as it started to retreat.

“Mine,” he snarled, sounding more serious than he’d intended. He licked the stray sauce from the tip of Guan Shan’s thumb, his tongue covering more surface area than strictly needed.

Even in the murky moonlight, the colour sweeping Guan Shan’s cheekbones was a mesmerising carmine. He cut his gaze to the crowd at the other end of the lot, and then back to He Tian. He slowly withdrew his hand.

“Alright. You don’t like sharing.” The playful notes were undercut by an unease that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Was Guan Shan uncomfortable with PDA? He hadn’t objected to their very public handholding at the 135. Were the potential onlookers putting him off? The youth, stoned and sated, hardly registered on He Tian’s threat radar. He’d noticed their intrigue when he’d parked up and hadn’t blamed them; it wasn’t every day a superbike more monster than machine was stationed in the same arena as sedans running on borrowed time. But their interest hadn’t been intrusive and so He Tian hadn’t given them a second thought.

“What’s the story here?” He asked, hoping to distract Guan Shan from his discomfort.

“Hm?” Swallowing the last of his food, Guan Shan regarded the rubble and ruins beyond the beat pickup. “Accident. Tanker truck caught fire when it stopped to refuel. Place went up like dynamite.”

“That’s what happened,” He Tian acknowledged. “But what’s the story?”

Guan Shan turned back to him. Squinted.

He Tian wasn’t gonna let him off easy. He’d looked into the lesbian bar, bewildered that folk not frantic for their next crystal fix would voluntarily gather and mingle at the ass-end of the city. He hadn’t found anything to explain it until he’d looked into the owner. Although search results were scarce, he did find several photos of her at the opening of two separate women’s shelters across the region. Her philanthropic initiatives had garnered her a loyal, albeit mostly underground, following.

Guan Shan shrugged and He Tian bit into his final burger, waiting him out. The bitter-sweet war between a stubborn pineapple and a sour lemon ravaged his mouth and he closed his eyes against its severity. Fucking-A. This stuff was _lit._

“Is that your sex face?” Guan Shan razzed, stacking their paper plates.

“You know it ain’t,” He Tian challenged with the straightest face he could muster. “You’ve already seen that, up close and everything.”

“What, in the locker room?” Guan Shan shot back as he gathered their empty bottles. “Nah, that was definitely your ‘oh shit’ face.”

He Tian was saved from having to respond when Guan Shan returned to the pickup truck to drop off their trash. He spent the next fifteen minutes helping the _nǎinai_ pack up.

It was three am and the crowd was thinning. Whoever’d been in charge of the tunes had long gone, and the field katydids had taken over, their trills and clicks a cantabile passage that suspended him and the remaining stragglers in a torporific trance. The stars in the night sky shimmered like the shattered glass on the tarmac under his boots and He Tian wondered why he’d been so hung up on chasing dreams of helium and hydrogen when reality was so much… brighter.

He watched Guan Shan tie a knot in a garbage bag. The glow from a crescent moon limning the cut of his delts. The ripple of his back muscles as he slung the bag over the side of the truck. The softening of his facial features as he bid the _nǎinai_ farewell.

He could watch him all day. And all night. And still not have his fill.

As Guan Shan jogged back, the pickup pulled out of the lot with a couple of sedans following suit.

He came to stand beside He Tian. Leaned against the R1. Folded his arms.

“A boy died that night. But the fire took more than just his life.” He barely formed the words, and they were a whisper at best. “So his gran comes here once a month with whatever meat a butcher can’t shift. Cooks a mean burger. And we pay tribute to an orphaned boy who left school so he could fill his baby sister’s bottle with something other than leftover rice water. We remember his mom who died during a forced abortion. And we remember his dad who went missing because he sought justice from an unjust government.” Guan Shan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He was fourteen when he started working here. What hope is there, really, for a society that has forsaken its children?”

He Tian considered his profile – stoic, sombre – and, for the first time, he could see the boy Guan Shan had once been. The boy that was still there, behind a fortress of scowls, strength and stealth.

Taking the hand that was closest to him, He Tian interlinked their fingers together. Squeezed. He felt Guan Shan stiffen. Steal a quick glance at the remaining group of people still loitering around.

“They don’t care,” He Tian assured him.

Guan Shan huffed a humourless laugh. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it? We care too much about the things that have fuck all to do with us, and too little about the things we should give a fuck about.”

“Well, right now I’m giving the stoners zero fucks and so should you.” He Tian brought their hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of Guan Shan’s hand. “Thank you. For this. For dinner. The last time someone bought me a burger I was a brat in light-up kicks throwing a tantrum in a pet store.”

Breaking into half a smile, Guan Shan eyed the motorbike. “Now you’re just a brat with bigger toys.”

“My car’s, uh, out of commission. I’m borrowing the bike.” He Tian swung a leg over and straddled the R1. “Hop on.”

Guan Shan hesitated.

“She won’t buck you off.”

When Guan Shan attempted to get onto the rear of the bike, He Tian stopped him. Patted the space between his legs. Guan Shan gave him a look.

“The night’s not getting any younger,” He Tian chided.

Puffing a breath, Guan Shan made to sit in front when He Tian grabbed his waist and spun him around. Helped him sit so that they were facing each other, Guan Shan’s bare thighs resting on top of He Tian’s denim-clad legs.

“I don’t care how biker you are, you can’t ride with us like this.”

“I didn’t bring a spare helmet,” He Tian disclosed sheepishly. “I can’t ride with you no matter what position we’re in.” His voice dropped a little with that admission, as did his gaze. The sight of Guan Shan’s thighs, pale and powerful, made his cock perk up.

“So this was just an excuse to get some ass in your lap?”

“You aren’t in my lap yet,” He Tian replied with a promise.

Guan Shan looked down at his hands, his face a lovely shade of red. “I treated you real shitty at the bar. I dunno, I thought you and that fucktard had it in for me.”

“You don’t gotta worry about him. He’ll never set foot in the club again.”

“I'm not worried. I can look after myself.” Playing with the hem of He Tian’s shirt, Guan Shan cleared his throat. “I’m trying to say sorry. And thanks.”

His honesty and humility made He Tian feel light. Weightless. Wonderful.

“I guess we’re even then.”

Guan Shan threw him a questioning look.

“I took out that asshole and you took me out on a date. Two dates, even.”

“A _date?_ ”

“Fuck yeah.” Pulling him closer, He Tian whispered gruffly in his ear. “You already know I don’t like sharing.” Now Guan Shan _was_ in his lap. Trembling a little. Gripping tightly onto He Tian’s shirt. His shorts somewhat tented.

He Tian would never have been this bold had Jian Yi not set him straight. If all he got was one shot, he was gonna make it fucking count.

“I’m not… I can’t…”

“We don’t have to put a label on it or anything,” He Tian proposed, although it half sounded like a plea.

“I don’t do relationships.”

“I’m not asking for a commitment, Guan Shan. Just… a chance.”

“A chance to what?”

“To show you a good time.”

Guan Shan raised his brows.

“Not in a sex way,” He Tian spluttered. Guan Shan’s brows rose higher. “I mean, not _just_ in a sex way.”

“Nice save,” He murmured, wriggling in He Tian’s lap.

“Fuck,” He Tian grunted. And his cock protested its tight confines.                      

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Tell me then.” Mapping the bends and bumps of Guan Shan’s back with the palms of his hands, He Tian didn’t think he was beyond a bit of begging. “Show me.”

Since He Tian had managed to ruffle up the other man’s clothing, when Guan Shan shrugged, one of the straps of his tank top slipped off his shoulder. And it shouldn’t have been so seductive. So hot. But it was. Because they were both a little breathless. And a lot horny.

But there was no way he was gonna sex Guan Shan up in front of the scorched service-station-turned-shrine.

“So, where did you say you were from?” He Tian asked, plucking the offending strap and repositioning it, all gentleman-like.

“You saying I talk funny?”

“Yeah. I fucking love it.”

Guan Shan laughed, the sound testing He Tian’s perfect-gentleman swagger.

“I grew up in southern Xinjiang. I’m probably at least part Uyghur.”

“Probably?”

“The orphanage barely kept an accurate record of names, let alone any other specifics.”

He Tian deflated at the revelation. Not solely because it spoke of a childhood that was more about preservation than aspiration, but because when Guan Shan had spoken about a society abandoning its children, he’d been talking about himself.

“Did you know your folks?”

A swift shake of his head. A rueful upturn of his mouth.

“Hey.” He Tian cupped the side of his face.

“What?”

“You keep looking like that and I’ll end up doing something stupid.”

“Like what?”

“Go on a manhunt. Or a ghost hunt.” Skimming his thumb across Guan Shan’s cheek, He Tian’s sights slipped to that sinful cupid’s bow. “Or kiss you.”

Guan Shan drew himself closer til there was no space between them, til their chests were sliding against each other, and their breathing was in sync. “One of those is infinitely more stupid than the others,” he murmured.

“Yeah, swatting your parents’ spirits with sage and sea salt is not the stellar first impression I had in mind either.”

A shudder of silent laughter sent both straps sailing off Guan Shan’s shoulders.

He Tian nudged his nose against Guan Shan’s. And Guan Shan nudged back.

Then an obnoxiously loud honk made them both jump, and they knocked their heads in the process.

“Ow.”

“ _Fuck_.”

The last of the horde had piled into a single vehicle. It rolled past at a leisurely pace, its occupants taking the opportunity to holler, whistle and make kissy faces. Someone flung a spinning card in their direction and He Tian caught it before it smacked him in the face.

The car croaked out of the lot in a cloud of exhaust and chuckles.

“What is it?” Guan Shan inquired.

“Nothing,” He Tian muttered, slipping the card into his pocket.

“Show me.”

“It’s just a jackass card thrown by some homophobic jackass in a jackass car.” Great. Now his mood had gone to shit.

“They weren’t homophobic, He Tian. Just high.”

Momentarily dazzled that Guan Shan had referred to him by name, He Tian hadn’t registered his pocket being raided until Guan Shan’s hand brushed past his half-hard cock.

“‘Play It Safe’,” Guan Shan read aloud. “‘Walk-in STI Clinic.’”

Grumbling under his breath, He Tian made a grab for the card, but Guan Shan was quicker.

“What’s got you all worked up about this?”

“It’s fucking offensive,” He Tian argued. “They see two guys getting it on and suddenly it’s HIV Awareness Day.”

“Nah,” Guan Shan wrapped his arms around He Tian’s neck. “They heard you say you didn’t like sharing.”

“They couldn’t have –”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Guan Shan searched his eyes then, and He Tian could see the uncertainty there. The insecurity. The questions.

“Okay,” he relented. “Yeah.”

“It’s not like you’re a reliable condom-carrier anyway,” Guan Shan quipped.

“Hey,” he growled. Roughly taking hold of him so he didn’t fall off the bike, He Tian attacked Guan Shan’s sides with an all-out tickle offensive.

And the _konghou_ broke out in full swing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the longest chapter I've posted in this fic and I am not a believer in unnecessarily drawn-out scenes, but you guys have been incredibly supportive and sweet and I wanted to give something back. Also, a special shoutout to the folks on Tumblr who put up with my shit. Ily.


	22. Chapter 22

Today 05:30

**You:** you get back okay?

**Lil Fox:** yeah

**Lil Fox:** stop fussing

**Lil Fox:** my bike’s never let me down

 

Today 10:30

**Lil Fox:** the sex bite looks worse this time

**You:** it needed a touch up

**You:** and it’s a love bite

**Lil Fox** : it’s a sex bite

**Lil Fox:** you went bigger

**You:** nah I just went longer

**You:** send a pic

**You:** close up

**You:** front and back

**You:** get your legs in the shot too

 

Today 13:10

**You:** I’m going to the clinic today

**Lil Fox:** got classes til 6

**Lil Fox:** I’ll go tomorrow

**Lil Fox:** let me know how it goes

 

Today 15:05

**You:** he wanted to stick a swab up my ass

**You:** sorry wrong convo

**Jian Yi:**  Why is he sticking a swab up your ass??? Is that a medical kink????? And wrong convo????? Who on earth are you sharing your sex shenanigans with??????????

 

Today 15:30

**Jian Yi:** Is it Matt???

**Jian Yi:** Are you sure that's healthy??????

 

Today 19:20

**Lil Fox:** wyd

**You:** at the gym

**You:** working out

**Lil Fox:** send a pic

 

Today 22:45

**You:** I wanna see you tonight

**Lil Fox:** we said we were meeting tomorrow night

**You:** I know

**You:** I miss you though

**Lil Fox:** is that code for phone sex

**You:** I think so

**You:** I want you so bad

**Lil Fox:** He Tian

**Lil Fox:** you haven’t begun to want

**Lil Fox:** [click to view]


	23. Chapter 23

Every Wednesday at The Lounge was bar night. This meant the semiprivate rooms were off-limits to patrons and, unless a private function had been booked, the den was bolted and barred. It secured the night off for the few staff who supervised scenes or initiated newbies. And it thinned down the steady stream of regulars and curious callers.

Just what he wanted for Guan Shan’s first time at the leather bar.

His nose twitched under the brunt of Moroccan oil mousse, Gucci Flora and singed hair. This particular playroom always made him feel a little tipsy, with its mirrored walls and mirrored ceiling. The infinite reflections within reflections. Like a reel that went on forever. But Jian Yi liked to take full advantage.

“Bruised Plum or Bad Lieutenant?” Jian Yi asked, pouting pensively.

He Tied grunted.

Turning away from his reflection, Jian Yi pinned him with a less than impressed glare. He’d rimmed his waterline with kohl and his lower lids with a sparkling liquid platinum, the result a pair of enchanting eyes that could have been crafted by Pavel Guzenko himself.

“Sounds like budget porn,” He Tian mumbled, because the alternative was losing himself in all the glitz and glamour.

“It’s Tom Ford, you uncultured ass.” Jian Yi uncapped his lipsticks, revealing the matte berry and nude shades respectively.

“I dunno. I guess it depends what look you’re going for.” He’d spent the last hour assisting Jian Yi create perfectly imperfect beach waves with a flat iron. His back had protested. His hand cramped. And now his thumb was smarting from having been scalded. Twice.

He was feeling cranky. And his attention was wavering. He didn’t mind helping his best friend pimp out. He simply required an incessant supply of dirty whiskey to help him get through it.

Jian Yi pouted again, this time a little less pensive and a lot more provocative.

“I want to look… fuckable.”

He Tian laughed. “‘He’s just a friend’ you said.”

“He _is_ ,” Jian Yi insisted, dabbing what was presumably some sort of primer onto his lips. He rolled on some Bruised Plum.

“I’m no lip queen but that is the kinda colour that sets a friendship on fire.”

Jian Yi sighed. And it was a soft, sad sound. “I told you, he’s straight.”

“Well, I’m definitely getting some bi-curious vibes.”

“You haven’t met him yet!”

“You said we went to the same high school.” Riffling through the Jian Yi’s boxy makeup bag, He Tian picked out a cherry chapstick. Smeared a layer on. Then a second. He was feeling lucky tonight.

“Point.”

“So I have met him?” He’d collated a mental list of potential students after Jian Yi had opened up about the pussy groomer with the V-lines. But clues were sparse and slow to come. And the list wasn’t getting any shorter.

“You have.”

“So why aren’t you telling me who it is? Was he a prick back in school?”

“No,” Jian Yi protested with a perfunctory roll of his eyes. “And a little patience wouldn’t go amiss; you’re meeting him tonight. I want you on your best behaviour.”

“I can be nice.” He Tian examined the torture device that Jian Yi had used to curl his lashes. It bore a disturbing resemblance to the tool he’d occasionally seen be used to snip fingers off uncooperative captives. “You’re confusing me with my brother.”

“Please. The thought of introducing him to He Cheng is more stress than I can handle right now.”

He Tian chuckled. “You’d only say that if he was potential boyfriend material. He Cheng has no qualms about who you hang out with. Who you date, on the other hand…”

“That overprotective streak of his is  _such_  a cockblock,” Jian Yi groaned, spritzing something onto his face in an aggressive fashion.

“But you aren’t gunning for cock tonight so it’s all good,” He Tian baited with a breezy smile.

“Right. I’ve had enough of your let’s-goad-the-single-gay-boy repartee.” Turning around, Jian Yi started spritzing in He Tian’s direction. “Out! You’ve been intolerable since you made up with your little fighter friend. All happy in lust and shit.”

"Hey!” He Tian yelled, his objections lapsing into laughter as Jian Yi chased him out the room. “The fuck is that stuff? If it’s glitter –”

“Relax. It’s setting spray.” Jian Yi paused at the door and added drily, “I’m not sure that glitter wouldn’t just spontaneously combust in the face of your hypermasculinity.”

“You’re mean when you’re sexually frustrated.” He Tian narrowly avoided being walloped with the spray bottle. “What time does your mystery friend get here?”

“Any minute now, I think. And I still need to get changed.” Jian Yi indicated the work clothes he was in.

That was He Tian’s cue to scamper.

“If he arrives before you’re done, I’ll buy him a drink, make him feel welcome.” He Tian offered. “I promise not to show him any pics from your fake tan-obsessed days.”

This time Jian Yi did get him with the bottle. “I mean it! Be nice.”

“Okay, okay!”

“He doesn’t know I’m taking him to this gig, so don’t mention it.”

“Gotchya.”

“And I’ll be back in good time to meet your man friend.”

“Hey, if it looks like you might get laid tonight don’t let –”

The door promptly closed in his face.

He probably deserved that.

Making his way downstairs, He Tian mulled over their school days. For the most part, he and Jian Yi didn’t run in the same circles. Sure, they had a few mutual friends, but this dwindled down to only a handful after the op necessitated his childhood friend drop back a year.

Jian Yi never really had a ‘coming out’. He kind of just  _was._  Stupidly stunning. And unapologetically effete. If he was crushing on someone, it showed. And his popularity was such that half the year was in the know before the school day was even out. This prompted the staunchly heterosexual boys to pick on him or, once they realised his relation to He Tian, to give him an incredibly wide berth.

There was one kid who didn’t mind Jian Yi’s flowery and overly familiar manner – whether it was born of tolerance or tenderness He Tian had never been able to tell. And, although they weren’t more than passing acquaintances, He Tian did recall shooting hoops with the guy and his buddies in a few friendly games of b-ball. He was in the year above He Tian, which meant he was two years ahead of Jian Yi. It also meant that, in the kid’s senior year, Jian Yi had doubled his efforts to spend as much time as possible batting his lashes at the guy and feigning an interest in learning how to dribble and block.

Could he be the cat whisperer?

He Tian’s thoughts were cut short when he landed on the first floor and took in the fella at the bar, built like a concrete shithouse with a bearing that betrayed a background in either law enforcement or the military. Or both.

He felt his hackles rise. Lately, cops were always sniffing around leather bars. There was a nationwide campaign to clampdown on chemsex and The Lounge was an obvious target. But Ria had a zero-tolerance policy for drug possession on the premises. She also had zero tolerance for cops throwing their weight around. As house dom, her clients were her first priority. Users of the den were guaranteed confidentiality and anonymity, a privilege many of those scaling the political ladder valued. Permitting the police to snoop around threatened that privilege.

It was Ria’s night off though, and, normally, Jian Yi assumed managerial responsibility in her absence. Seeing as how he was wooing the not-boyfriend he had reconnected with online and taking him to see his favourite band tonight, He Tian figured that put him in charge.

And charge he would.

Putting his game face on, he marched towards the heavy-set intruder. Dropped a leaden hand on that hefty shoulder. Squeezed a bulky trap under a shearling jacket.

The guy turned around. Slow. Like he’d been expecting a confrontation. Or had had his fair share of them and the incipient challenge was nothing more than an inconvenience.

If he wasn’t so cop, He Tian might have got on with him.

They were evenly matched. The few inches of height He Tian had on him the other man made up for in shoulder width. He didn’t look like the kind of guy that would go down easy.

And, suddenly, He Tian was itching for a fight. His current role as chief negotiator of the triad translated to ensuring unnecessary conflicts were avoided, that disputes were settled without drawing bloodbaths and that fatalities were kept to a minimum. Apart from the mock matches He Tian participated in when he worked out, it had been a while since he last brawled. Really brawled. The kind of violence that didn’t indulge mouthguards or boxing gloves. Just skin on skin. Spitting blood and snapping bones. Where there were no winners. Just the last man standing.

He clenched his fists. He wanted the guy to give him an excuse. Any excuse. And a worthy scuffle.

“He Tian?”

He turned his attention to the pair of frosty eyes addressing him. Took in the rest of the fella’s features.

Zhan Zheng Xi had grown into the overly square jaw he’d sported as a teen, the straight-edged nose that had been too severe for his boyish proportions, the harsh brows that had always distracted from the blizzard brewing in his eyes.

Poleaxed, He Tian dropped his hand. Gone was the lean, lanky, shooting guard figure, and in its place a runner back’s physique. Zheng Xi had filled out.

And he was a fucking cop.

Shit. No wonder Jian Yi had kept hush about him.

He Cheng was going to have a coronary.

“It’s been a while,” Zheng Xi drawled, his smile genial. Kind. Gentle.

“Probably not as long for me,” He Tian jested. “I’m pretty sure I saw you in last month’s Flex.”

“Ah, He Tian, still breaking hearts I see.” The smile grew wider. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Jian Yi would have my balls in a sling.” He Tian propped an elbow onto the counter. “How about a Godfather?”

“I'd say hell yeah, but I’m driving tonight.”

Kaelin was tending to a couple at the other end of the bar so He Tian signalled the bartender-in-training. “Two soda limes, Shui.”

“I’ll be honest. When Jian Yi said he worked at a kink club I didn’t expect this,” Zheng Xi confided after sampling his drink. “I like it. It’s quiet.”

“Bar night,” He Tian explained. “You should come see the place on theme night. Or not. Depends what you’re into.” He wondered if he was subtle enough. If Zheng Xi would perhaps confess to occasionally shedding the vanilla straight-dude persona.

He wasn’t. And Zheng Xi didn’t take the bait. “I’m more of a jazz bar man myself. Some music for the soul. Views of the harbour. A coffee, equal parts bourbon and espresso.”

“Nice. Not many jazz bars around here though.”

“No, but plenty back in Hong Kong. One of my favourite bands is actually on tour this month.”

“Yeah?”

Zheng Xi shrugged. Downed the rest of his soda. “Tickets sold out before work could sanction the time off.”

Fuck. Jian Yi was such a romantic. And if he didn’t get his cock sucked tonight, He Tian might have to headbutt Zheng Xi on principle alone.

“What do you do?” He Tian asked, casually.

“I work cybersecurity for HKPF. I moved to the island a couple of years ago. But I’m back in Sichuan so often I don’t really get a chance to miss home.”

“Did someone say they missed me?” Came Jian Yi’s caressing croon.

They both turned around in time to see a recherché creature skipping down the stairs in suede over-the-knee boots.

Jian Yi wore an oversized off-the-shoulder top that was snug around his arms and loose around his bare thighs. It was beige and glimmered like white sand on a moonlit beach. A trilby cast a soft shadow over his eyes, and the liquid platinum popped and crackled. The addition of Bruised Plum turned the coquettish getup into something sultry and sensual.

Gliding towards them, Jian Yi hugged Zheng Xi and was embraced in turn.

He Tian counted to ten in his head before they disengaged.

“How was your flight?”

“Uhm, fine.” Zheng Xi cleared his throat. “You look –”

“Jian Yi!” Kaelin called out. “Who are you wearing? Your lips look good enough to fuck.”

“Hear, hear!” One man hooted, eyeing Jian Yi like he was next on the menu.

“He can’t say that stuff when he’s behind the bar,” Jian Yi hissed, unfazed as he became the focus of many a customer. “He’s on the clock.”

“I’ll have a word,” He Tian promised. Kaelin got away with a lot when Ria was in the house. It was a different story when Jian Yi was holding the reins.

“Sometimes I think he just does it to wind me up.” Jian Yi turned back to Zheng Xi, who looked a little flushed. And a little flustered. “You ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah. What about…” Zheng Xi lowered his voice and He Tian missed the rest of the question.

“I  _am_  wearing pants,” Jian Yi replied with an amused giggle. “They’re just really small. And called short shorts. I could show you if you want.”

He Tian felt like he was encroaching on something private. Especially when Zheng Xi blinked a few times in rapid succession, clearly at a loss for words. He watched as Zheng Xi grabbed his glass instead. Threw it back. The muscles in his jaw working as he crushed the ice.

A beatific smile on his face, Jian Yi leaned in toward He Tian. Pecked his cheek.

“Thank you for all your help tonight,” he beamed. And if he looked breathtaking before, he was blinding now.

_Crunch._

Zheng Xi put his glass down with a clumsy clatter. Captured He Tian’s hand in his own. A firm, solid grip that brokered no argument as to the strength in those guns. He stepped in for a man hug, which He Tian thought was a little forward considering they’d been chatting for no more than fifteen minutes.

Except it was only a front.

As Zheng Xi patted him on the back, he murmured, “Your ten o’clock. Keep an eye on that one.”

Glancing in that direction, He Tian considered the man who had heckled Jian Yi. He wasn’t one of the regulars. And he didn’t look drunk enough to be dismissed home. He was still undressing Jian Yi with his eyes though. And He Tian wondered if Zheng Xi was a little biased.

“Thanks, man. I will.” They pulled back. “You guys have a good night.”

“Always,” Jian Yi waved, sauntering away, his not-boyfriend in tow.

He Tian didn’t miss the look of concentration on Zheng Xi’s face as he studied Jian Yi’s ass. Probably pondering how short short shorts could get.

And how good Jian Yi would look in them.

He smirked.

 _Straight_ was right.

Straight into Jian Yi’s pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested in reading a bit more about Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi, I wrote a little ficlet called [Once Upon a Tinder Swipe.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17634920?view_full_work=true)
> 
> Also, guys, if you didn't know already, I am a total comment slut. Please leave your thoughts and kinks below.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up: This chapter contains references to attempted sexual violence.

He remembers Guan Shan’s first night at The Lounge.

The early evening shower had peppered a placid city, the precipitation not so much the kind of storm the skies pledged during this season, but more of a poised sprinkle. Its percussions against rooftops and rafts a tranquil, plaintive tremolo. The aftermath pellucid puddles and a petrichor potpourri.

Standing on the terrace roof offered a panoramic vista. The leather bar was perched atop a hillside, alongside the neighbouring teahouse and bespoke tailors. The vantage point delivered so much more than the view from his brother’s penthouse ever could – a spectacle of the coruscating colours of a city at night and, beyond that, the bucolic stillness of the countryside.

He indulged in a final, lingering breath. The poignant fragrance of monsoon-soaked soil, wet plants and wetter petals permeated the air, and like a salve soothed his overstrung nerves.

He hated that he was nervous.

Nervous about sharing this part of his life. Opening himself up to judgement. Laying himself bare to rejection.

As he headed back indoors, He Tian questioned, not for the first time that day, how Guan Shan would get there. He’d declined a lift. Several times. And, when He Tian had tried to insist, Guan Shan had rightly put him in his place. The thought of a stubborn rider travelling that kind of distance on a bogus bicycle made him wince. He then wondered if that same stubbornness explained why Guan Shan’s quads were so… scrumptious.

That made him wince a little less.

Three flights of stairs later and he was angling his way back to the bar. Parched. And popping on the wrong kind of energy.

“You look like a bull that’s just seen red,” Kaelin snickered as he wiped down the countertop.

“Huh?”

“Twitchy. Uptight.” Kaelin winked. “A G&T oughta loosen you right up.”

“Is it that obvious?” He Tian groused, his face growing warm.

Hell, it must’ve been. Kaelin was the least observant person he knew.

“Babyyy, come wet my whistle.” The garbled overture was punctuated by a hiccup.

He Tian frowned at the man in the corner. It was the same guy who had rubbed Zheng Xi the wrong way. And, as he almost slipped off his barstool ogling Kaelin, he was starting to rub He Tian the wrong way too.

Probably in his thirties, with dental work that cost more than the Prada overcoat he’d slung over the bartop, he had a face that had been lifted straight from an augmentation catalogue and a body that was more implant than tissue.

“That sleazebag’s punching out,” He Tian muttered. He was about to head in the guy’s direction when Kaelin caught hold of his wrist.

“Relax, bro. He’s harmless.”

“He’s harassing the staff,” He Tian argued. He knew Ria had rules about that kind of stuff – like she did everything else. Also, his nervous energy needed an outlet. And the sleazebag would provide temporary relief.

“I can handle his type,” Kaelin insisted, his tone imploring. A quick side glance at Shui, who was gingerly polishing glassware like he was afraid of snapping the stems.

Ah.

Kaelin wanted to prove he could hold his own in front of the new trainee. Maybe teach him a thing or two about handling unsavoury customers.

Reluctantly, He Tian succumbed to the silent plea in those chartreuse eyes. “Alright. That’s strike two. Third strike and he’s out.”

Kaelin grinned with unabashed jubilation. He leaned over the counter and propped his chin in his hands. “Is that a soccer reference?”

“No, it’s not a soccer –” He Tian sighed. “What happened to that drink, barkeep?”

Giggling, Kaelin righted himself and reached over to caress a thumb across He Tian’s cheek. “No offence, but the purple looks better on Jian Yi.”

_Balls._

He didn’t need lipstick smears on his face that he couldn’t explain away in two words or less. Just thinking about the time he’d tried to justify smelling like a sex dungeon to Guan Shan made him cringe. Although, that wasn’t as awkward as slipping up and admitting he knew Guan Shan was staying at the dance academy’s dorms. Trying to dispel stalkerish vibes over text wasn’t easy. ‘I swear I don’t want to wear you as a skin suit’ had sounded better in his head.

“Did you get it all?” He Tian turned his head to the side as Kaelin licked the pad of his thumb. Swiped it across He Tian’s cheek.

And it was in that moment that Guan Shan walked into The Lounge.

Deliciously distracting in spray-on stonewashed jeans. And devilishly distracting in He Tian’s racer jacket. He would never be able to look at that garment the same way. Not after last night when Guan Shan had sent him a racy selfie – naked, save for the jacket gathered at his elbows, with a half-hearted attempt to cover his D&B using a strategic crossing of legs. And then another selfie where all such attempts were abandoned.

He Tian swallowed back a wave of arousal. And when he focused on Guan Shan’s expression – all pinched lips and piercing eyes – he swallowed back a wave of apprehension. Kaelin was still at it and He Tian wasn’t sure whether the younger man was wiping the Bruised Plum off him or trying to weave it into his DNA.

Stepping back from the ministrations, He Tian greeted Guan Shan with a smile. “You made it.”

“Hey,” Guan Shan returned, assessing Kaelin as he walked up to the bar. Most new patrons analysed Kaelin at length, trying to figure out what sex he was assigned at birth. Or why he wasn’t collared. Or both. Often not in that order.

But Guan Shan wasn’t studying him like that. He Tian recognised that look – a predator scoping out the competition.

Except Kaelin was anything but.

Taking his cue to run interference, He Tian pulled Guan Shan closer to himself. Wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Guan Shan, this is Kaelin, bartender and family. Kae, this is Guan Shan.”

“Hi!” Kaelin exclaimed, sticking his hand out. “It’s nice to finally put a face to all the rumours.”

Guan Shan shook the hand offered with a quizzical look in He Tian’s direction.

“G&Ts all around?” Kaelin asked, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Rum and Coke,” Guan Shan interjected.

“Coming right up!”

As Kaelin turned away to fix their drinks, Guan Shan looked up at He Tian. “What rumours?”

“No clue. Probably the ones he made up in his head,” He Tian suggested with fondness. “He’s a kid with an overactive everything.”

“Kid or not,” Guan Shan half-turned in He Tian’s one-arm embrace. “You aren’t the only one that doesn’t like sharing. That shit is a two-way street.”

Was Guan Shan saying what He Tian thought he was saying? That he wanted them to be exclusive?

He Tian faltered in his response, following Guan Shan’s tongue as it licked a glossy course between his lips. Guan Shan’s upper lip was more generous than its lower counterpart, like a rosebud that was blooming out of sync. He wondered if adding his own tongue to the mix would help even things out. He could maybe suck that impassive lower lip into something more impassioned. Or just see how much of a swollen mess he could make. Symmetry was, after all, tragically overrated.

“Your bartender made it worse,” Guan Shan commented with a cursory survey of the cheek Kaelin had been attending to. Like he was unaware of the come-hither signals his lips were sending.

“I bet he did. Make it better?” He Tian asked hopefully. Kiss it better, he wanted desperately.

Slipping a leg between He Tian’s thighs, Guan Shan peered up at him, a frisky smile dancing on his fuck-me lips. He playfully tapped the underside of He Tian’s balls with his knee. With nothing between them but the dubious protection of threadbare denim, the contact – and context – went straight to He Tian’s cock.

He groaned.

“Make what better?” Guan Shan teased, his eyes alight with mischief.

He Tian buried his face in the crook of Guan Shan’s neck. “It’s so fucking raw.”

Laughter stirred the hairs behind his ear. Stirred the embers of his arousal.

Being turned on was making it worse.

“ _Stop_ ,” He Tian pleaded, half chuckle, half whimper. “It hurts.”

“I didn’t  _do_  anything.”

“You shouldn’t have given it to me.” He ran his nose up the column of Guan Shan’s throat. The now familiar leather and lime infusion like an aphrodisiac to his flayed senses, leaving him wanting and wanton. Bereft and perfectly balanced.

“Right. So my towel should have come with a ‘wank with caution’ disclaimer.”

“I can’t be trusted to not be stupid around you,” He Tian growled.

“And yet I distinctly remember  _not_  being there.” Guan Shan stuttered when He Tian began nibbling at his earlobe.

“You were there in sexting spirit.” At the time, his cock had enjoyed the cottony softness of Guan Shan’s sweat towel.

Really.

Enjoyed it.

The next morning, not so much.

“Sexting? I sent you a pic. Maybe two.”

“Yeah. You did. You should send more. With better lighting.” He Tian started unzipping the racer jacket so he could get easier access to the bite mark he was maintaining on Guan Shan’s person.

“What are you doing?” Guan Shan asked, pulling back. Mellowly mirth percolating through the mischief in his eyes.

“Saying hello,” He Tian replied, planting a soft kiss on his handiwork.

Guan Shan shuddered.

Fuck. He Tian’s cock hated both of them so much right now.

A wistful sigh brought the flow of their flirty endorphins to an abrupt halt.

They both turned.

Kaelin was back. A silly simper on his face. His eyes wide. Wild. Unblinking.

The puddles of condensation around the base of the two glasses indicated he’d been there for a while.

“You guys are so hot together,” he gushed.

Guan Shan squeezed out from He Tian’s embrace. Grabbed his Cuba Libre. Gulped half of it down.

“Oh,” Kaelin stammered. “Uhm. I’ll need to see some ID.”

Scowling, Guan Shan swallowed down the rest of his drink in defiance.

“Kae’s doing things by the book tonight,” He Tian explained, slipping his hand into his pocket and trying to adjust himself. Carefully. Because his cock still felt like it was on fire.

Wordlessly, Guan Shan dropped a plastic card onto the counter.

He Tian was surreptitiously scanning the rest of the bar trying to determine if their make-out session had caused as much of a stir in the crowd as it had in his groin when Kaelin blurted, “You’re underage.”

“What?” Guan Shan snapped.

Except his exclamation was drowned out by He Tian’s outraged “The fuck?”

“No, I mean,” Kaelin blinked rapidly, “you have to be at least twenty-one to get in here. Since it’s bar night and all the rooms are locked, I guess, technically, I could give you a free pass? Maybe? I’d have to check with Jian Yi. But you can’t… How did you get past the bouncer?”

But neither of them was listening. He Tian swiped the ID card off the rock surface, only to have Guan Shan swipe it right back.

“The hell?”

“How old are you?” He Tian demanded.

“Who pissed in your drink?” Guan Shan fumed, squaring up.

“Uh, guys…” Kaelin began.

“Is Lui Guan Shan even your name?”

“Who – You went through my file?”

“It’s Mo Guan Shan,” Kaelin recited to no one in particular.

Why did he feel so affronted? Angry? Like Guan Shan had deliberately deceived him? “Yeah, I read your file. You lied about your age. You can’t be in the ring if you’re under twenty.”

He caught the brief look of betrayal on Guan Shan’s face before indignation darkened his features once again.

_Fuckshit._

He hadn’t meant that the way it sounded.

He was about to apologise when Guan Shan, trembling with barely restrained fury, snarled. “I’m done with this shit.” He turned on his heel.

Nononono.

_Not again._

He Tian snatched Guan Shan’s forearm. Spun him around. And Guan Shan stumbled, crashing into He Tian’s chest.

“Fuck you!” Guan Shan spat, flattening the palms of his hands against He Tian’s pecs and pushing back.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.” He Tian challenged, his hand an iron grip on Guan Shan’s arm, his voice a tender whisper against Guan Shan’s lips.

Guan Shan stopped pushing. Glowered. Pressed his mouth into a thin, hard line.

“I’m sorry,” He Tian rasped. “Don’t leave.”

Guan Shan grunted. Non-committal. “I’m twenty. Probably older. But who knows? Difficult to prove without a birth certificate.”

He Tian sighed, partly in relief but mostly because he couldn’t believe he’d been such a fucking asshole.

“Aftershock, anyone?” Kaelin chimed. He looked from He Tian to Guan Shan and back again and didn’t wait for an answer before he started lining shot glasses. Way too many shot glasses.

Snatching the abandoned G&T, He Tian chugged a mouthful before seating himself on a stool.

“Am I sleeping on the couch tonight?” He joked, a faux effort to lift the mood. In reality, it was an attempt to review the damage he had done. And ascertain how much of it was irreversible.

Guan Shan didn’t look at him. Just worked his jaw.

“Please sit down,” He Tian begged. Please don’t hate me.

He’d fucked up. He’d turned a situation that had nothing to do with him into something about him. Worse. He’d acted like he’d been wronged when, in fact, he had wronged Guan Shan in his assumption that he was owed anything. Guan Shan didn’t owe him shit. Not even the truth. And He Tian knew why that terrified him. Because if Guan Shan wasn’t real, did that make everything between them a lie?

“It was shitty of me to comment on whether or not you should be in the ring,” He Tian confessed when Guan Shan rebuffed his request to take a seat. “I had no right.”

“The only brawlers who don’t lie on the forms are the ones who have nothing left to lose,” Guan Shan said between clenched teeth.

“Right. I take it if the academy found out you were fighting underground they’d kick your ass. Or whatever the scholastic version of that is these days.”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sorry I acted like a tool.”

“I’m a lot of things.” Guan Shan pulled out a barstool and climbed on. “One thing I’m not, though, is a liar. My name, my age, even my place of birth – they’re blanks that were filled in for convenience by a fountain pen contracted by the government. Occasionally, I write over them. But it’s inconsequential – what I am on paper is a number. Trackable. Identifiable. It tells you nothing about who I am.”

He Tian felt his insides tense. Twist. Tug. “What do you think happened? To your folks?”

A half-shrug. “Nothing, probably.” Guan Shan still wouldn’t look at him.

“But –”

“My closest friend at the orphanage had cerebral palsy. My bunkmate had Down’s. A bunch of unsightly, sick and unadoptable kids with no potential because no one could see past the disability. Mouths that their dirt-poor parents couldn’t afford to feed. At first, I thought maybe I was one of the premature runts. You know, dumped because I’d be too expensive to keep alive.” Fiddling with one of the empty shot glasses, Guan Shan lips quirked. “Turned out I was babbling and crawling when the orphanage took me in. I wasn’t a brat that’d been forsaken at birth. I’d belonged to someone. At least for a while.”

He Tian stilled the hand that was playing with the glass. Laced his fingers on top of Guan Shan’s. “When did you leave Xinjiang?”

Looking at the glass now lying on its side, Guan Shan replied, “I haven’t. Not really. I’m the charity case the academy picked up on their philanthropic rounds of the slummy orphanages. Their altruistic gesture because rich folk need to be seen to be sharing their wealth. I’ll probably go back once I graduate. If I graduate.”

“If your dancing is anything like your fighting –”

Guan Shan cut him off. “You should come.”

“Huh?”

“Watch me dance,” Guan Shan clarified, gazing up at He Tian now. The hardened look he’d been wearing softened into a soulful innocence. “I mean,” Guan Shan cleared his throat, “to make up for the fights you’ve missed.”

“I’d love that,” He Tian said, his own face splitting into a goofy grin. A surge of excitement zapped his restless insides. He wanted to pull Guan Shan onto his lap but decided against it; they’d given the patrons enough of a show tonight. That, and he didn’t think his cock would appreciate the workout.

“What happened to those shots?” Guan Shan asked. He huffed. “No strippers at the sex club. An AWOL bartender. This is not the wild night I had in mind.”

He Tian laughed. “Shui, where’s Kae at?”

“Er, he said he was looking for the lighter?” Shui replied like he wasn’t sure himself.

“He’s trying to impress you with his shots on fire show,” He Tian said to Guan Shan with a wink.

“At this rate, I’ll be impressed if I’m even buzzing by the end of the night.”

The comment reminded He Tian of the inebriated sleazebag and prompted him to glance in that direction. The seat was vacant. The Prada left behind.

Before He Tian could give that any thought, a crash shattered the comfortable background commotion of The Lounge. It came from the corridor behind the ‘Staff Only’ sign. And was chased by a clatter and a guttural  _“Whore!”_.

Guan Shan had already vaulted over the countertop and was sprinting past a perplexed Shui by the time He Tian had skidded round the curved bar. The counter flap was down and he darted into the entryway that led to the dimly-lit corridor. Several doors lined the passageway. But only one of them was wide open.

He almost tripped over Kaelin in his haste, who was on the ground and backing away from the scuffle in the middle of the room. Guan Shan and the sleazebag were grappling and He Tian noted how the latter wasn’t moving like a man under the influence. No sloppy swings or clumsy footwork. Still, no match for the fox.

Crouching down, He Tian took inventory of Kaelin.

Pale. Quaking. Glassy-eyed.

_Son of a bitch._

“Kae. Hey.” He noticed then that Kaelin’s shirt had been ripped open. And there was blood on his chest. There wasn’t much, but it was still oozing. “Where’d he hurt you? Can you walk?”

But Kaelin wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even looking at him. Rivetted as he was by the tussle ahead.

Guan Shan now had the man in a Hell’s Gate submission. The sleazebag struggled. Thrashed. Slapped his palm against the bamboo flooring in staccato surrender. But was ignored.

_Shit._

Before He Tian could tell Guan Shan to ease up, the sleazebag went limp.

“Fuck, Guan Shan, is he –”

Relaxing his hold, Guan Shan rolled away and sprang up like a scrapper eager to go again. He Tian watched as Guan Shan turned the unconscious man onto his side and manoeuvred him into what looked like the recovery position.

“He’s fine,” Guan Shan said, chest heaving. He rolled his neck. Flexed his fingers.

“That was amazing.” Kaelin gasped in a hushed tone.

“Kae, let’s get you outta here.” He Tian said.

“You just,” Kaelin continued, “walked in and woosh! And then wham!”

Guan Shan frowned.

“And he’s bigger than you!” Kaelin babbled. “And you – ”

“The smaller you are the harder you have to work to protect yourself,” Guan Shan intoned.

“Teach me.”

He Tian interrupted. “Kae, no. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He took hold of Kaelin by the elbow and helped him onto his feet.

“But I want brother Mo to teach me,” Kaelin insisted.

“What?”

“ _What?_ ”

“I said I want him to teach me.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call him that.”

Kaelin pouted.

“Your sister would kill me,” He Tian hissed. He reviewed Kaelin’s dishevelled appearance. “After she skins me alive.”

Looking down at himself, Kaelin inhaled sharply. “Ohmygodohmygod.”

“What? What’s wrong?” He Tian seized him by the shoulders and scanned him for further injuries.

Screwing his eyes shut, Kaelin stamped his feet on the ground. Whimpered. “Is it there? Tell me it’s still there!”

“ _What is?_ ”

Guan Shan walked over and peeled back the two halves of Kaelin’s shirt. “It’s still there.”

“Ah, thank fuck.” Sighing, Kaelin opened his eyes again.

“What are you guys –”

“His nipple,” Guan Shan said.

“My nipple,” Kaelin confirmed. “When he – When my shirt – it snagged my ring.”

An image of the stacked savage attacking a slender sylph like Kaelin flashed through He Tian’s mind. He didn’t realise what was happening til Guan Shan grunted, trying to hold him back.

“He’s out for the count, He Tian. Back off.”

“I’m gonna rip his fucking dick off,” He Tian bit out, glaring at the guy on the ground. But a beat later he stepped back, conceding that he wouldn’t attack a man who was already down. He’d have to wait til the guy was on his feet again. He cut his gaze back to Kaelin. “Let’s get you outta here.”

“Let’s get who outta where?” Came a mellifluous inflection.

Jian Yi’s jaw dropped as he took in the room. Its occupants. The sack of shit lying like a sack of shit.  “Okay, which of you ingrates needs an alibi?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was okay.  
> I don't have mixed feelings about this chapter, I'm just plain unhappy with it.  
> So to try and make up for it, I've written a little ficlet from Guan Shan's perspective: [Give Me Some Mad Love.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17767868)  
> Please indulge ~
> 
> And, as always, lemme know your thoughts below. (And if you've got any spare sappy love going, feel free to drop some of that on my single, lonely ass.)
> 
> Happy Valentine's!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song playing in this chapter is Matt Maeson's soul-baring Tribulation. The official audio can be found here ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fR0ZJsZQXjQ

He remembers the first time he bore witness to the fox flying outside of a fight.

The mackerel sky simmered a molten orange as the sun began to set, whilst a pomegranate pink mottled puffs of cirrocumulus clouds. The swirling silhouette of a flock of birds swarmed and sailed as one, steadily slinking into the sleepy twilight. With the New Year fêtes still in full swing and the Lantern Festival on the horizon, the city tittered and trilled with street parades, firecrackers and prayers for good fortune.

He’d spent the last week in Shanghai diffusing a dust-up between one of their main branches and the Taiwanese syndicate. He’d lost a few men in the imbroglio and a chunk of their import rights, but the alternative would have involved more bloodshed and even more gunpowder.

Fuck, he was cranky.

Turning the ignition off, he kicked the side stand down and secured his helmet. This time of the day, only a smattering of students strolled the campus grounds. He ignored their blatant admiration of Ria’s bike as he dismounted and made his way up the steps of Harper Hall. The glass doors required a swipe card and he was about to text Guan Shan when a gaggle of young women in leotards exited the building.

He held the door open and, as soon the last student sashayed through, slipped in.

“That butt though!” He heard one of the women mock-whisper before the door hissed shut behind him.

At first, he’d been in two minds about the garment – a gag gift courtesy of Jian Yi. The leather pants were a snug fit, and he’d worried about an incessant wedgie and his balls sweating out. But he liked the feel of them. Under his palms and around his junk. The fact that they gave his ass a nice lift was a mere bonus.

Traversing the foyer, he tottered past glossy posters and crowded corkboards. Sensor lights turned on with a soft click as he breached a darkened hallway and turned off with a click just as soft as he retreated.

He had fuck all idea where he was supposed to be headed.

But it wasn’t so bad.

He liked being able to explore this plane of Guan Shan’s universe. He liked that he’d been trusted to navigate it on his own. Mostly, He Tian liked that Guan Shan wanted to show him who he was when he wasn’t trying to knock a man down.

An arpeggio thrummed through the floorboards.

The reverberations beckoned and propelled him towards a spiral staircase, which in turn led to an underground glass-enclosed studio.

And, there he was. Like a porcelain ballerina in a music box.

Twirling. Spinning mid-flight. And landing like a dream.

Except. This wasn’t any sort of ballet He Tian was familiar with – which, admittedly, started and ended with the première of Black Swan.

Not wanting to interrupt Guan Shan’s rhythm, He Tian unlaced his boots. Slipped them off. And snuck into the studio on socked feet.

He reclined against one of the walls, his leather-clad ass squeaking against the sprung flooring.

Shit.

But Guan Shan was undeterred.

A cascade of lift-offs, lyrical turns, and liquid legwork. And all to a melancholy country ballad.

 _Darling, can't you see_  
_I'm a broken man_  
_With addictive tendencies_

His every nerve tuned to Guan Shan’s frequency, He Tian let the sights before him swallow him whole and, for the time being at least, sidestepped his concerns about the Taiwanese triad, the hunt for a new apartment, and putting a down payment on a set of wheels without his brother finding out.

He didn’t think Guan Shan could be any more breathtaking than when he took down a beast in the cage. The way he would grunt around a mouthguard. Shake the sweat of his eyes. Take the game to the ground. Because the ground was where he dethroned the ugliest of thugs.

And, yet, as his pivoted and pirouetted, his pointe work all pride and humility, Guan Shan had never looked more in his element. The mechanics of his movements precise.

Powerful.

Poised.

 _And I think I love you_  
_But I don't ever think I can_  
_Ever learn how to love just right_

A brio backflip that defied gravity and morphed into a fluid side fall had Guan Shan lying on his front. Then seamlessly backing up onto his hands and feet. Arching. And, when he dropped into the splits, his ass bounced as he hit the ground.

It was then that He Tian realised just how…  _naked_  Guan Shan was.

Barefooted. Bare-chested. Skin-tight black trunks made from less fabric than the sock on He Tian’s left foot.

But ‘tight’ didn’t begin to describe how the trunks clung to his curves, defined the cleft of his ass, or outlined the head of his cock.

_Fuck._

There was no way He Tian’s pants would accommodate a boner so he attempted to concentrate on something other than Guan Shan’s crotch. It might have been his imagination, or plain wishful thinking on his part, but he thought Guan Shan’s movements had shifted from controlled and contained to indecorous.

And deliberately sensual.

The sway of his hips, the slow seductive pull of his legs as his curled in on himself, and the mask of sultry indifference he enlisted as he stretched out again.

He Tian’s cock throbbed with a promise.

Sweat sparkled in the lambent light, limning Guan Shan’s muscles – those toned thighs, and that taut, taut torso. Gliding across the room, he somersaulted in the air, the spray of his perspiration like glitter confetti.

No.

It wasn’t his imagination.

That scintilla of doubt was overturned as Guan Shan paraded past, his every step a sweet torment, the roll of his hips a trance that tugged at He Tian’s self-control.

And set it free.

He Tian wasn’t sure when he’d popped his fly. Snaked a hand down his pants. And started stroking himself. But there was no hiding it. Not that he wanted to. Not when Guan Shan’s gaze raked his leather-encased legs like that.

“Why are you playing with yourself when you could be playing with me?” The casual lilt in Guan Shan’s voice clashed with the carnal look in his eyes, with the jut of a half-hard cock in his itty bitty trunks.

He Tian took the hand that was offered but, instead of letting himself be helped up onto his feet, he pulled Guan Shan towards him. Taken by surprise, Guan Shan tumbled into He Tian’s lap and, before either of them could get comfortable, He Tian rolled them forward so that Guan Shan was flat on his back.

“Mhmm.” The low sound of approval in Guan Shan’s throat made He Tian’s balls grow tight.

“I missed you,” He Tian said, laying a kiss where the angle of Guan Shan’s jaw met his ear. It tasted like citrus, coconut and fresh sweat.

“It’s only been a week,” Guan Shan murmured, sliding his hand into He Tian’s hair and guiding him towards their favourite place, where neck met shoulder in a carnage of bruises and bitemarks. “You dressed up for me.” He skimmed a barefoot up the side of He Tian’s thigh.

“You danced for me,” He Tian replied, rocking his hips into Guan Shan’s. “What was that?”

Guan Shan shrugged. “Contemporary. I didn’t have any formal training as a kid so it’s really just a mess of parkour and self-taught gymnastics.”

“Don’t talk yourself down,” He Tian chided. “I’ve never seen anyone dance like that.”

“You liked it?”

“You know I did. You’re beautiful. And when you dance?” He Tian whispered, a rising, burning need scalding his insides. “All I could think about were all the ways I wanted to fuck you.”

Guan Shan shuddered underneath him. “ _Yes._ ”

Kissing a path down Guan Shan’s neck, He Tian slid down til he was level with those tiny trunks. Til he was close enough that the  _huli jing_  meticulously tattooed on Guan Shan’s thigh flicked one of its many tails at him.

This was uncharted territory. He’d never… sucked cock before. But, fuck, if he didn’t taste Guan Shan right now he was going to cut a bitch. Probably in the form of a reckless race on Ria’s bike, and the only bitch at risk of being cut in that scenario was himself ft. Ria’s Santoku knife.

Tugging the tight, damp fabric down, He Tian pulled the trunks off and watched as Guan Shan’s cut cock lolled back and forth.

Luring him in.

Daring him to lick.

There was a certain delicacy and grace to it that He Tian’s own cock lacked. A façade of composure that he had every intention of taking apart.

He kissed the base of Guan Shan’s cock, the soft red hairs there tickling his lips. And Guan Shan dropped his pale legs to the sides in anticipation of more.

Breathing in the scent of Guan Shan’s arousal and the musky aroma that was uniquely his, He Tian took hold of Guan Shan’s cock and gave it a few pumps. Guan Shan moaned, his knees lifting off the ground, a pearl of precum making a punctual appearance.

Fuck, _yeah._

He wanted so bad to make this good for Guan Shan, especially because his inexperience would be apparent. But He Tian’s desire to be a gentleman warred with his greater need to devour.

Guan Shan bucked when He Tian tongued his slit, hands trying and failing to find purchase on the laminated flooring. He cursed when He Tian tongued him again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Guan Shan cried.

“What do you want?” Hot and hard in He Tian’s hand, Guan Shan’s cock continued to leak. And He Tian pumped it some more, adding a twist to the upstroke, and a squeeze as he neared the ridge.

Guan Shan whimpered. His cheeks flushed. His ears flushed. And the top of his chest and shoulders equally flushed.

Looking down at him, Guan Shan hesitated, searching He Tian’s eyes like he would find the answer there.

“I want you to choke on my dick,” he revealed, his accent rough and thick.

Holy _fuck._

With that admission, He Tian’s own cock strained painfully against his pant leg. He took Guan Shan’s hands and uncurled the fists. Kissed Guan Shan’s right palm before placing it and its counterpart at the back of his head.

“Make me,” he panted. A provocation. A prayer.

Threading his fingers through He Tian’s hair, Guan Shan drew him back towards his crotch. Lifted his hips off the ground so he could rub his cock against He Tian’s lips.

“Open up for me,” Guan Shan instructed.

And He Tian did.

He took the tip of Guan Shan’s cock into his mouth.

Sucked at it.

Rolled his tongue over the surface.

“Yeah,” Guan Shan breathed, his fingers tugging at the hairs on He Tian’s head. “More.”

So, He Tian took more.

He wasn’t worried about gagging; he didn’t think Guan Shan’s length would trigger that particular reflex. What he was worried about was his serious lack of gamahuching skills. And, although he’d had his own cock sucked before, He Tian couldn’t, in that moment, remember what he enjoyed about it. All he could think about was how much he was enjoying _this_ – the taste of Guan Shan, the smell of him, the way he trembled and twitched under He Tian.

Grateful that he’d at least managed to keep his teeth in check so far, He Tian took in the rest of Guan Shan’s length. It was a hot, heavy thing against his tongue. When Guan Shan’s cockhead hit the roof of his mouth, He Tian hummed around him, loving the way that made Guan Shan pull harder at his hair.

“Let me fuck that mouth,” Guan Shan said, his hands coming to rest on either side of He Tian’s face. “Let me fuck it raw.”

_Yesyesyesyes._

His thrusts started slow. Languid. A soporific rhythm in time with the country singer’s sombre lyrics.

_Oh and all the ways that you won’t bend  
Are the only ways I live my life_

At some point, Guan Shan’s legs had slithered up and over He Tian’s shoulders, the smooth skin of his inner thighs sliding against He Tian’s cheeks, his heels pressing into He Tian’s back as he picked up the pace.

He Tian liked playing with his own balls when he got himself off. But he knew that not every guy was into that – he’d heard many a locker room tale about grabby girlfriends and sensitive nads. He didn’t know where Guan Shan was on that spectrum, but he was willing to gamble.

Cupping Guan Shan’s balls in one hand, He Tian ran a thumb over the skin of his sac. Hairless. A little sweaty. And a lot hot. He rolled them in his hand. And, when Guan Shan dug his heels in harder, He Tian hollowed his cheeks. Sucked deeper. Spit drooling and gathering at the base of Guan Shan’s cock.

He tugged on Guan Shan’s balls, not as rough as he would have been on himself, but not exactly gentle either. And Guan Shan gasped, his thrusts stuttering as he lost his momentum.

Fuck, he loved the sounds Guan Shan made.

Wanting to play with the bling behind his balls, He Tian let his free hand wander between Guan Shan’s legs. When his fingers accidentally brushed Guan Shan’s hole, they both froze. Breathing hard and harsh against the hypnotic ballad.

 _I think I'm better on my own_  
_But I get so lost in you_  
_I think I'm better on my own_  
_But I'm so obsessed with you_

Dammit.

He Tian released Guan Shan’s cock with a wet pop. Planted wetter kisses along his shaft before swallowing him down to the hilt. Started up a steady tempo that had Guan Shan thrusting again.

This time, He Tian limited his explorations further north. He found the piece of metal and prodded it, drawing a moan from Guan Shan.

“Harder,” Guan Shan begged, sounding beautiful and broken.

So, He Tian prodded harder.

“If you’re gonna come up,” Guan Shan warned, loosening his grip on He Tian’s hair, “do it now.”

Not likely.

All it took was swallowing around the cock in his mouth and pinching the skin around the barbell to send Guan Shan over the edge. Cum hit the back of He Tian’s throat, and he wrestled with the urge to cough and splutter. But he didn’t have to wrestle long. The taste of him – liquid heat and the hint of salt – was something He Tian could see himself getting hooked on.

Thighs pressed in close, enveloping He Tian’s head and shoulders in warmth and sex and full-body shudders as Guan Shan rode out his orgasm.

“ _Fuuuck_.” Gasping, chest heaving and legs going slack, Guan Shan looked down at He Tian. Bit his lip. “Why did we wait that long to do that?”

He Tian chuckled. Made his way up Guan Shan’s body. Kissed his temple.

“I’d suck you dry every day if you let me.”

Guan Shan hummed. Curled his arms around He Tian’s neck. Licked at the corner of He Tian’s mouth.

_Oh and I’m trying to cope  
And burn just right_

“Missed a spot,” he said with a cheeky uptilt of his lips.

He Tian groaned, loud. “Excuse me while I cum in my pants.”

Laughing, Guan Shan drew up his legs, planted the soles of his feet against He Tian’s pecs, and pushed back.

No sooner had He Tian landed on his ass that Guan Shan was on his knees, fishing He Tian’s cock out from the trapdoor front of his boxer briefs.

The press of Guan Shan’s palm against his length made He Tian purr in pleasure. He was so fucking hard he could feel himself pulsing in Guan Shan’s grip.

Guan Shan gazed up at him from under his wet lashes, a lascivious look on his face. “How do you get anything done with a dick this size dangling between your legs?”

“Uhhhmmmfffghh,” He Tian grunted, because words were failing him right now. As Guan Shan started stroking him, the heat in his belly and in his balls threatened to spill over in a sticky mess.

Guan Shan’s hot breath ghosted over his cockhead and He Tian quivered with the effort not to cum.

_Not yet not yet not yet._

But his inner chant went ignored.

Pressing a kiss to the underside of He Tian’s ridge, Guan Shan didn’t pull back quick enough when the cock in his hand went off, shooting cum across his face, over his cheeks, and into his hair.

“Guan Shan,” He Tian sibilated, the aftershocks of his release sending small, silky spurts of cum to the tip of his cock, and over Guan Shan’s hand. “Shit. I’m –” He Tian tried to catch his breath.

"Fucker," Guan Shan said with a smug smile. “You’re supposed to warn a guy _before_ you jizz all over his face.”

He Tian thumbed a drop of pearly white off Guan Shan’s chin. “Next time,” he promised, still breathless.

That smug smile turned suggestive. “Next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G u y s  
> Writing about blowjobs is like ???  
> A complete minefield compared to giving one (or, you know, receiving one when my ex felt especially frisky).  
> I am in serious need of some feedback. Feel free to slay me and tell me where I went wrong. And, equally, feel free to tell me your filthiest TianShan kinks.  
> Love x


	26. Chapter 26

Today 21:05

**Big bro:** I bought pizza

 

Today 21:20

**Jian Yi:** Where you at???

 **Jian Yi:** We’re having pizza at yours

 **Jian Yi:** ???

 

Today 21:42

**Kae:** can I have ur share

 

Today 22:10

**Big bro:** He Tian

 **Big bro:** Where are you?

 

Today 22:15

**Kae:**  going once...

 

Today 22:50

**Jian Yi:** Please text your brother he’s about to send a search party

 

Today 22:55

**Kae:** going twice...

 

Today 23:15

**You:**  in Nanbu

 **You:** not coming home tonight

 **You:** tell Kae he can have my pizza

 **You:** and tell He Cheng to chill tfo

 **Jian Yi:** Guan Shan???

 **You:** yeah

 

Today 23:22

**Big bro:** Use a rubber this time

 **Big bro:** Helps with the clean up after

 

Today 23:25

**Ria:** Tell your boyfriend he’s welcome at the club

 **Ria:** Bar floor only til he’s 21 tho

 

Today 23:30

**Kae:** 🍆💦🍆💦

 

Today 23:32

**Jian Yi:** Sorry not sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line x


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a plot-heavy chapter. But then I got horny.  
> Sorry.

Ugh.

Had he forgotten to do the shades last night?

He could feel the sun on his face, its heat uncomfortable. Unwelcome. Its rays seared his eyelids, blinding and blistering his vision. His bedroom only caught the dying embers of a setting sun, so why did it feel like the butt-crack of dawn?

He snapped his fingers twice.

Nothing.

No whirring hum as the top-down shades descended. No blackout bliss. No relief from a star hellbent on frying him sunny-side up.

Shit.

He tried to turn away from the window, only to become aware of the weight on his arm and chest. A body heat that was most comfortable, and most welcome.

Prying his tortured eyes open, he squinted down. A headful of red. A toned arm resting over his chest. A toned leg, bent at the knee, roosting on his abdomen.

It was a tight fit; Guan Shan’s single was not designed to accommodate two grown-ass men. At some point during the night, one or both of them had kicked the quilt off the bed. He Tian recalled insisting that they sleep naked and Guan Shan eventually relenting, or merely giving up after He Tian had flung his shorts across the room for the third time. With Guan Shan’s soft, grey tee riding up, He Tian had a terrific view of Guan Shan’s ass from up top. And, with a standing mirror strategically placed a couple of yards away from the foot of the bed, he had a devastating view of things down under.

The lewd curve of his left nut. The rose gold of the barbell against the paleness of his guiche. The pastel pink of his puckered hole – not as pink as his ballsack, but He Tian was willing to bet a bit of tendering would render it a blushing, swollen mess.

Only, after his slight misadventure yesterday, He Tian wasn’t sure Guan Shan was into ass play.

How did that sort of thing work, anyway? Should He Tian offer up his own ass first? It seemed a fair exchange, but what the fuck did he know? Ass etiquette wasn’t something he’d ever considered and he wondered if he could fool Jian Yi with an ‘asking for a friend’ pretence.

Sprawled on top of He Tian, Guan Shan shifted in his sleep. And He Tian caught a fresh whiff of the shampoo Guan Shan had used last night when he’d showered – a luscious lemon and lime concoction. The red strands tickled He Tian’s chin, inviting him to slide his fingers through the untamed spikes.

Guan Shan grunted, slapped at He Tian’s hand, and shifted once more. The motion brought his soft cock closer, and it nestled against He Tian’s lazy morning wood.

_Fuhhck._

He Tian wanted to take Guan Shan into his mouth again. Tease him to hardness. Make him cum.

Make him beg.

He was massaging the back of Guan Shan’s neck with his fingertips when Guan Shan swatted at him, turned over, and – before He Tian could will life back into the arm that Guan Shan had been sleeping on – rolled off the edge of the bed.

The crash rattled the mirror, knocked a few standing items on the tallboy off balance, and sent the overhead pendant light swinging.

The four white walls shook with an answering echo.

Scrambling up, He Tian looked down at Guan Shan. “Shit, are you okay?”

A carpet-muffled moan.

He Tian helped a grouchy, still half-asleep Guan Shan back onto the bed. “Where does it hurt?”

“Mmm,” Guan Shan buried his face between He Tian’s pecs.

“Let me kiss it better,” He Tian whispered, his hand gliding down Guan Shan’s back and grabbing an ass cheek.

“Tired,” Guan Shan mumbled.

“I hear morning fucks are kinda epic. Almost as good as angry make-up sex.”

“Later.”

Okay. So, Guan Shan wasn’t a morning person.

Sighing, He Tian closed his eyes. Threw his good arm over his face to block out the light. Tried to ignore his semi.

When he woke up again, it was to the sight of Guan Shan reaching up and trying to snatch a piece of clothing that was wound around the dome-shaped shade of the pendant light.

Were those the shorts He Tian had thrown last night?

With a huff, Guan Shan jumped up, his glutes clenching spectacularly. But his outstretched hand still fell short.

“You got this, little fox.” He Tian cheered. “A little more oomph, a little more bounce.”

Guan Shan turned around, a furrow between his brows, toothpaste foam on his chin, and the end of a toothbrush hanging from the corner of his mouth.

He flipped He Tian off before disappearing into the closet-sized bathroom.

“Hey, where’d you go?” He Tian called out. “I was enjoying that.”

The whoosh of an open tap was the only response.

A yawn and a stretch later, He Tian was on his feet. He caught hold of the black shorts and, with a shimmy and jiggle, pulled them on. They were a little tight around his waist, but otherwise an okay fit.

He padded his way to the bathroom. Rapped his knuckles against the wood of the half-open door. And, following Guan Shan’s affirmatory grunt, walked in.

“The light fixture wore ‘em better,” Guan Shan professed, patting his face dry with a towel.

“Oh?” He Tian crossed his arms, not missing the way Guan Shan’s gaze lowered and lingered on his chest. “So you would rather I walk around your place with my dick out?”

“With your real estate? Fuck yeah.”

He Tian laughed, letting Guan Shan lead him back out to the bedroom.

“I vaguely remember being kicked out of my own bed,” Guan Shan quipped, his eyes narrowing.

“Hey, I didn’t –”

“I also vaguely remember promising you epic morning sex.”

“I stand corrected. Your memory is flawless.”

Guan Shan backed He Tian up against the bed and divested him of the shorts. Lowered himself to his knees. Took hold of He Tian’s cock.

“Fuck,” He Tian breathed. “Hold up.”

“What?” Guan Shan asked, not holding up at all. He was already fondling He Tian’s balls.

“I should probably shower first,” He Tian admitted, already half lost to the sensations Guan Shan’s fingers were sending through his sac.

Burying his nose in He Tian’s crotch, Guan Shan whispered against his hardening shaft. “You’ll have to get back up first.”

He pushed He Tian onto the mattress and, with a strength that had been honed by years of discipline and diligence, pulled He Tian down so that his ass was at the edge of the bed.

Fuck, He Tian could get drunk on Guan Shan’s power alone.

He felt himself tense then tremble when Guan Shan tongued the divot between his balls. Licked a strip up the underside of his cock. Laved at his boys, taking one and then the other into his warm, moist mouth.

_Shitshitshitshit._

“I bet you taste even better after a workout,” Guan Shan theorised, his fingers tracing feather-light trails across He Tian’s abs. Down the inside of his thighs. And up again.

He Tian groaned at the thought of them having sweaty, post-gym sex. Their bodies already all revved up. Muscles burning. Blood boiling. A rough, mindless fuck that would leave them both wrecked. And ruined.

He groaned louder when his balls were squeezed.

“Yeah,” Guan Shan said. “Sing for me, He Tian.”

He whimpered as the gentle dominion of lips, teeth and tongue on his taint and inner thighs duelled with the ruthless tug and twist of his balls.

“I wanna –” His voice cracked.

“What was that?” Guan Shan purred, his grip tightening.

“I wanna,” He Tian swallowed, “cum.”

“Try again.” Guan Shan slapped his balls then. A swift, stinging smack that sent a spark straight to the head of his cock.

_Fffuuuck!_

“Please,” he heard himself plead, a dry sob propelling his surrender. “Please let me cum.”

“Better.”

Except Guan Shan pulled back then. Stood up.

Gone were the tender caresses and vicelike clutches, and in their place cool air and an unexpected vulnerability.

“Why’d you –” He Tian looked up at Guan Shan.

_Oh, sweet fuck._

The morning light set his skin aglow. Haloed his gorgeous bedhead. Glinted in his gold-dappled eyes.

“Please don’t stop.”

Guan Shan smiled. “Show me how you get yourself off.”

“Huh?”

“I wanna see you play with your cock.”

“Uhm.” He Tian felt his face go up in flames.

Why did the thought of that… _mortify_ him?

“Come on,” Guan Shan urged, his secret smile unwavering. “How many times a day do you beat off?”

Shit.

Like, before or after the first time he saw Guan Shan in the ring?

“Well,” He Tian wet his lips. “I don’t – I mean, I guess it depends…”

“On?”

“The weather?” He blurted.

Guan Shan laughed and, once He Tian realised what he’d said, he joined in.

“Dammit. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, if it makes you uncomfortable – ” Guan Shan started.

“No,” He Tian interjected, eyeing the way Guan Shan’s cheeks were tinged with exertion, the way his grey tee was tented with his desire. “I – I want to.”

“Okay. Talk me through it.” Guan Shan half-shrugged. “Truth? I could get off on your voice alone.”

Holy fuck.

“Right.” Clearing his throat, He Tian worried this would turn into sex ed 101 rather than the sexy spell he wanted it to be. He took himself in his hand, his hard-on having withered a little with his nerves. “So, uh, I aint cut. And my head’s real sensitive.”

“Yeah,” Guan Shan said. “Tell me about that.”

“About?”

“What you do with all that skin. I’ve not – I’ve never…”

“Been with an uncut fella before?” He Tian guessed, thinking about the guys Guan Shan had been with and – hell _._ He had no business getting worked up about the metaphorical notches on Guan Shan’ belt.

“Show me what you like,” Guan Shan asked, looking a little hazy-eyed as He Tian started stroking himself.

“I like to… pull my foreskin back and forth a little,” He Tian admitted, his voice low. “I like the way it rubs over my head.”

Guan Shan made a little sound in his throat.

“I go slow at first, especially if I’m not in a rush. I like dragging it out. Seeing how long I can fuck my fist without cumming. Usually… not long.”

“We can work on that,” Guan Shan offered, sounding ragged.

The damp spot that appeared on the peak of that fabric tent emboldened He Tian. He cupped his sore boys, his relatively cool palms a healing presence over the sizzling skin. Ah, fuck. Guan Shan had worked them good. They were buzzing and burning in the best way.

“I think about us a lot.” Precum oozed down his shaft, making his strokes slippery and seamless.

“What do you think about?”

“I think about us fucking.”

Guan Shan chuckled. “Okay. Stupid question.”

“And, now that I’ve tasted you, I want it even more.”

“Mmm. I wanna taste you too.”

_Yeah._

The air tightened around them, and He Tian’s sac tightened in answer. He increased the pressure around his cock, squeezing as his hand slid up to the tip. When he thumbed his slit, he heard Guan Shan’s breath catch.

“That looks like fun.” Shuffling forward, Guan Shan shucked off his tee. Straddled He Tian’s legs.

It was tricky – their cumulative weight on the edge of the mattress as gravity tried to drag them down. But balance and counterbalance was Guan Shan’s gift and He Tian trusted him. Hell, he’d trust Guan Shan to lead them both across a tightrope blindfolded.

Already at full mast, Guan Shan’s cock was rock hard and ruddy. And He Tian licked his lips, the scent of their combined arousal thick enough to taste.

“Take it,” Guan Shan directed. Demanded.

Wanted.

So He Tian added Guan Shan’s cock to his grasp. Stroked them together, sinking further and further into pre-orgasmic ecstasy. He stuttered every time Guan Shan’s cockhead nudged his ridge.

“I’m close,” he grunted, his hand picking up speed, his other hand fisting in the sheets.

When Guan Shan hummed, the vibrations travelled down.

To both their dicks.

And He Tian felt himself unravel, his vision going all starry. As the first load of cum shot through him, he bucked. It surprised them both and threw Guan Shan forward. With his reflexes, though, he was able to catch himself before his weight dropped onto He Tian’s chest.

He Tian was still pulling at their cocks, still cumming, when Guan Shan bent down to run the flat of his tongue over a nipple. Up the groove between He Tian’s pecs. And then dip into the hollow of his throat. And He Tian realised then that Guan Shan was licking up the remnants of his release.

“Keep going,” Guan Shan murmured when He Tian’s hand started slowing down.

But He Tian felt like he’d been wrung dry. And his limbs felt like they’d been wrung dry, too.

He figured Guan Shan caught onto that because he sat back on his haunches, tugged at his own still-hard cock.

“Cum on me,” He Tian said, his breathing still laboured.

Guan Shan closed his eyes. Inhaled. Slow. Like he was trying to hold back. Maybe trying not to cum yet.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Guan Shan instructed.

Before He Tian’s blissed-out brain cells could review that statement, Guan Shan took He Tian’s softening cock into his grip. He was sensitive now and he hissed when their cocks collided. Whimpered when they rubbed against each other. Cried out when Guan Shan’s free hand swirled around their cockheads.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

“Yeah,” Guan Shan growled. “You’re so beautiful when you sing.”

“Guan Shan!” He felt like his body was on fire. His cock the fuse.

It smarted. And stung. And sparked.

But it wasn’t… painful. He was just hyperaware of the sensations racing through it. Of Guan Shan’s supple palm. Of his steady fingers. Of the pulse in Guan Shan’s shaft as it skipped and stumbled and soared.

“Please, please, please.” It took He Tian a moment before he realised those slurred, wet sounds were his own.

“Please what?”

“Mess me up,” he mewled. _Make me yours._

Guan Shan threw his head back. The cords in his neck popped. The muscles of his abdomen clenched.

And, when he came, it was all grace and glory. All glistening sweat and glimmering spunk. A sight grander than the rays of sunshine gleaming around them.

The ripple of arousal in He Tian’s groin roared through the rest of his body, wringing another wave of climax out of him.

And, damn, did he hurt then.

An assortment of hitherto unacknowledged aches announced their arrival as He Tian came down from his high.

He’d never felt so… utterly fucked.

Winded still, Guan Shan leaned over He Tian. Pressed a raspy kiss to his stubbled jaw. Then another. And another.

“Thank you,” Guan Shan sighed.

He Tian tried to reply but his voice was hoarse. His throat like dryland after a dust storm.

“So fucking beautiful,” Guan Shan breathed into his ear. Nipped at it.

And then he was gone.

The rustle of feet on carpeted ground. The raucous of a glass door opening and closing. The rumble of a showerhead coming to life.

Holy hell.

He Tian didn’t think he could ever move again.

He’d clearly been fucking all wrong up to this point.

Or, simply, been fucking all the wrong folk.

“Spare towel and toothbrush in the top drawer,” Guan Shan hollered.

Right.

Hygiene. Shower. Maybe a shave.

Things that had been pushed to the back of his mind when he'd been too busy being fucked out of his mind.

Once he summoned the strength to pull himself up, He Tian traversed the short distance to the dresser. When the vertical drag on his balls got too much, he gingerly cupped himself and lifted his boys.

Even now, the line between pleasure and pain was so fine there might not have been one at all.

He fucking loved it.

He pulled out the top drawer and, at a quick glance, couldn’t locate any toiletries. Had Guan Shan meant the tallboy and not the dresser?

He was about to push the drawer back in when a small stack of black and white photos caught his eye. Mementos from Guan Shan’s childhood?

Spurred on by the possibility of candid shots of a little fox cub, He Tian plucked the pictures out and started sifting through them. Although monochrome, the photographs were evidently not as dated as he had initially presumed. Nor were any of them of drooling toddlers in training diapers. In fact, the shots were of unkempt, morose-looking adolescents in portraits akin to those found on ID documents. Several faces had been savagely scrawled on or violently scratched out.

What the fuck?

Ignoring the chill that slithered down his spine, he flipped one of the photographs round and noted scribbles denoting a name, date and location.

He Tian startled when he heard a loud clang and curse from the adjoining bathroom. He’d just managed to return the photos and close the drawer shut when Guan Shan tumbled out into the bedroom. Dripping wet. A dollop of lather on his delt. Dew drops dazzling in the light.

He wondered if the look of guilt on his own face was as glaring as the one on Guan Shan’s.

“Shit,” Guan Shan exclaimed, running a shaky hand through his soaking hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t fucking think. I didn’t… I don’t know how…”

Wasn’t He Tian supposed to be the one apologising? Didn’t an invasion of privacy constitute a breach of trust and confidence?

Guan Shan scrambled towards him then, the towel slung low on his hips barely staying in place. Cold, damp hands quivered around He Tian’s shoulders.

“Are you –” Guan Shan’s gaze flittered around He Tian’s face, dropped to his groin. “Did I hurt you?”

Oh.

_Fucking-A._

“No, Guan Shan, you didn’t.”

“I just got up and _left_ you. I didn’t even stop to check you were okay.” He was yammering now, gesticulating wildly. “I didn’t fucking –”

“Hey, hey.” He Tian grabbed Guan Shan by the face. Brought their foreheads together. Breathed him in. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to.”

“But –”

“Shh. I loved every minute of it.” He Tian glided the back of his hand down Guan Shan’s cheek. “You were so good to me. I’ve never felt like that – like this – before.”

Guan Shan looked down at their feet. Nodded. Then turned his head slightly to kiss the inside of He Tian’s wrist.

“Now,” He Tian said with a smirk. “Where’s that towel at? I feel great and all but cold jizz is kinda gross.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I absolutely thrive on your comments. Please drop me a line with your thoughts x


	28. Chapter 28

He remembers the first time they had breakfast together.

The earthiness of lightly-roasted organic coffee. The spiciness of freshly-ground cinnamon. And, oddly, the sweetness of finely-spun cotton candy.

The espresso bar on campus, brewing and bustling with the morning rush, boasted staff in bowties, floral prints and a self-service bakery. A wistful indie number laced the airwaves and lulled the caffeine-infused crowd to linger a minute or two longer. But the seating indoors had been claimed by the early-birds, forcing late-risers to either spill out onto the outdoor patio or take their orders to go.

Savouring his double shot in the dark, He Tian was reminded of the twenty-four-hour hipster coffeehouse he and Matt had called home the week before their theses were due. The main difference here being the lack of racial diversity. That, and all the students at Sichuan Dance Academy were basically carbon copies of each other – from their streamlined bodies to the way they were counting calories at the cupcake stand.

Even amongst fellow dancers, Guan Shan stood out. They were long. And lean. And lovely to look in the way glass dolls were.

Guan Shan was bulkier. His thighs muscle-bound. His beauty ineffable.

“Stop it,” he grumbled around a mouthful of berries and Greek yoghurt.

He Tian set his cup down. Sat back in the dainty chair that was too fragile for his frame. Stilled when it shrieked something awful.

“Stop what?”

“That.” Guan Shan’s voice dropped a decibel. “The freshly-fucked vibe you got going on.”

Grinning, He Tian cut into his egg and veg pancake. “Not my fault you were so… thorough.”

Guan Shan coughed. Looked away. Muttered something inaudible.

Damn. He always blushed so pretty.

And, out of nowhere, an urgent need overwhelmed He Tian. He wanted to hold Guan Shan’s hand. Maybe steal a blueberry from his bowl. Or finger feed him a morsel of the orange and apricot loaf lying between them.

Would there ever come a time when that would pass as customary between them?

Unperturbed by the commotion out on the patio – culinary clatter and a barrage of conversations buzzing on caffeine – the atmosphere around the two of them simmered with an undeniable intimacy.

They were wearing matching white tees, although He Tian’s was snug around his chest and biceps. Guan Shan had also lent him a pair of sweat shorts. The man did not, however, own any non-sports related underwear; and He Tian had declined the jock that was offered. So they were both currently commando. Hanging free.

A first for He Tian.

He hadn’t felt this free in a long time.

“Are you… out? At school?”

“Huh?” Guan Shan rested the tall glass of frozen pear protein shake back on the tabletop. He regarded He Tian with a questioning look.

“Or to your friends?”

“Friends?” Guan Shan’s tone was muted. His look less questioning now, and more guarded.

“Do they know? I mean, well, how do you identify? Sexually?”

_Balls._ Could he sound any denser? How did Jian Yi make these sorts of discussions look so seamless?

“A label,” Guan Shan murmured. “You know how I feel about labels.”

He Tian felt himself deflate a little. And not only because labels included ‘boyfriend’.

“People label themselves when they want to belong to something. Or someone. Or they’re labelled by a people so as to be categorised and committed to a social construct or convention. And, frankly, I’ve had enough institutionalisation to last me a lifetime.”

“Oh.” He Tian swallowed past the lump in his throat. Took another slug of his coffee, the bitter poison now far from palatable. “Yeah. I get that labels aren’t for everyone.”

“What about you?”

“Uhm,” He Tian fumbled for the right words; for him, a label meant representation. Loyalty. Recognition. “I’m out to my friends. My brother knows. But it wasn’t something I felt the need to announce, you know? There wasn’t this whole build up towards a big revelation. I didn’t even realise I was gay til I moved overseas and… Well, yeah.”

“You met someone?” Guan Shan guessed, gaze averted. His spoon dipped in and out of the yoghurt, creating crest. After crest. After crest.

“Not like that. We were roommates,” He Tian clarified. Because he needed to be clear about this. That the only someone he had ever met was sitting opposite him right now. “There was a post-game party and everyone was smashed. And handsy. Matt said he’d never seen a straight man with three women in his lap so disimpassioned.”

“So you went back to your place and had a party of your own?” The sly smile Guan Shan was going for was half-hearted.

He Tian shook his head. “The first time he tried anything I busted his lip.”

Guan Shan huffed a laugh. “But not the second time?”

“No. Not the second time.”

But you will always be my first.

“Are you two still –”

“We’re just friends. Good friends,” He Tian added. There’d never been any romance between him and Matt. Just neighbourly hand jobs and a healthy dose of college humour. “Did you always know you were into guys?”

Guan Shan scanned his eyes, lips parting on a syllable.

“Momo, you really need to start replying to the group chat.”

_Momo?_

A slight young woman with a lisp sprinted over to their table, a hobo bag wider than she was swinging from her shoulder. Her cropped hoodie and leopard print leggings a satirical statement against her prim and proper topknot bun. “Rehearsal’s been brought forward an hour.”

Guan Shan blinked up at her.

“Okay,” he replied plainly.

The silence stretched for a minute as she ignored his curt response, looking from him to He Tian and back again, evidently awaiting introductions.

None were made.

Rolling her eyes with an affectionate sigh, she stuck her hand out. “Hi, I’m Li Liya. Mo Guan Shan’s dance partner. Lucky for him his dancing skills are better than his social skills.”

“Hey,” He Tian greeted, shaking her hand and sharing her sunny smile. “He Tian.”

“Do you dance, He Tian?”

“Uh, no.”

“Bet you’ve seen Momo dance.”

A heat crawled up He Tian’s neck as he recalled Guan Shan parading around in a strip of cloth, but he kept his expression neutral.

Or, at least, he thought he did.

Her sunny smile morphed into an impish simper. “Of course you have.”

“Liya, he’s not interested in –” Guan Shan cut in.

“But you haven’t picked up your two tickets from the office yet. I’m sure He Tian would _love_ to see you on stage.” She bent at the waist and whispered theatrically in He Tian’s direction. “Sequined. Spandex.”

His eyes widen despite himself.

Guan Shan stood up. Took Li Liya by the shoulders. Spun her around.

She added an extra twirl of her own, twittering with a wink. “That’s just a taster.”

“Bye, Liya.” Guan Shan ground out. No bite in his bark.

“Always so grumpy, Momo.” She crooned. “I’ll see you at twelve. Laters, He Tian!” A farewell wave and she skipped away.

“She seems nice,” He Tian acknowledged aloud once she was out of earshot.

“She’s a meddler.” Guan Shan returned to his seat. Threw back the rest of his shake.

“So you have a show coming up?”

Guan Shan grunted. Popped a raspberry into his mouth. Chewed with more force than necessary.

“She’s right, you know. I would love to –”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Frowning, He Tian was about to argue his point when Guan Shan continued.

“Their dance is mere steps. Sequence. Synchrony. It’s all about the script, not the story. Performance is gauged by the reaction of a shitass McNobody in a room full of shitass McNobodies.” Guan Shan eviscerated a blackberry with his spoon. Breathed out. “It’s never about the dancer. And I don’t… I don’t want you to see me like that. A puppet entangled in their strings.”

Let me untangle you.

“I’m sorry.” He Tian said, resting his knee against Guan Shan’s. “I didn’t realise that was how you felt.”

“They call me a pretentious prick.”

“Who?”

“The kids here. And maybe I am. But I’d rather that than a dumbfuck lamb in a flock of lost lambs herded by a man I have no faith in.”

He Tian smiled; Guan Shan sure had a way with words. “Liya doesn’t seem the type to call you pretentious.”

“Nah. She just calls me a prick when I pretend I’m about to drop her.”

“See? You do like her.”

“I tolerate her,” Guan Shan countered. He speared one of He Tian’s pancakes. Dropped it into his bowl. Dug in.

“But it’s important to you? That you graduate from here?”

Swallowing, Guan Shan wiped his mouth with a crumpled paper napkin. “They’re counting on me. I can’t go back to Xinjiang empty-handed. Even if the qualification itself means jack squat to me, to them it’s hope. That even a reject can make it.”

He Tian nodded. Really, though, he didn’t get it. He couldn’t understand why Guan Shan would spend years doing something he hated in order to prove a point. But, perhaps, that _was_ the point. That He Tian could never really appreciate what it meant to work your ass off because people were depending on you, not because it was expected of you. That he could never understand what it meant, truly meant, to be utterly alone. To have nothing – not an even a name that hadn’t been bestowed upon you out of necessity or obligation. And then have someone like Guan Shan tell you that you were worth more than your roots.

“What about fighting?” He Tian prodded.

“You don’t look like I do and not learn to how to take a few punches,” Guan Shan retorted with a rueful twist of his lips. A faraway look in his eyes suggested years of ‘a few punches’. “I was a runt. Too small. Too mouthy. Not Han enough.”

A cold knot clenched low in He Tian’s belly. “And you learned to throw a few punches in turn?”

“Exactly.”

“But, why the ring?”

Guan Shan hesitated, tossing the wad of napkin into his empty bowl.

“Refill, fellas?” A server with silver snake bites and a semi manbun. As slight as Li Liya, maybe even slighter. He swirled the steaming coffee in the glass pot he was carrying.

“Actually, could I get a fresh black eye?” He Tian handed over his cup and saucer.

“Sure thing.” Semi Bun turned to Guan Shan with a salacious smile and He Tian didn’t miss the suggestive way the server drew his lower lip into his mouth. “And you? Can I get ya anything?”

The guy was hitting on Guan Shan.

Right in front of He Tian.

The little spitfuck.

“You got something on your collar,” He Tian interrupted. Casually, he indicated Guan Shan’s left side with a flick of his finger.

“Wha?” Guan Shan gave him a weird look. Tugged at his own neckline. The effect was a fleeting exhibition of love bites.

He Tian smirked when the server inhaled sharply.

“Looks like he’s got everything he needs.” When Semi Bun’s gaze darted towards him, He Tian flashed his guilty-as-charged canines. “Thanks.” He suppressed a snicker when the younger man ducked his head and slinked away.

“The fuck? I was gonna ask for more berries,” Guan Shan scowled.

“We can get some to go. Here, have some cake.” He Tian sliced into the loaf. Slid a piece in front of Guan Shan.

“Don’t tell me what to eat.” In between his grousing, Guan Shan gobbled up his share of the fruit loaf.

Polishing off his own plate, He Tian pondered over the photos he’d found amongst Guan Shan’s possessions and he wondered how best to bring them up.

“Tell me about the club.” Guan Shan’s request halted his troubled thoughts.

“The Lounge?” As Guan Shan hummed his assent, He Tian asked, “What do you wanna know?”

A nonchalant shrug bordering on nervous. “How long have you been in that lifestyle?”

“Oh. I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

He couldn’t place the look that passed on Guan Shan’s face.

“I spend a lot of time there, sure, but mostly because Jian Yi can’t tell the difference between a nut and a bolt. Also, theme nights are kinda fun.”

“So you don’t even, like, watch?” Guan Shan sounded uncertain then, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to ask.

“I used to. Back when I was still curious. The hardcore stuff’s usually reserved for the den. But the rooms upstairs? Yeah, I’ve watched a few scenes.” Semi Bun returned then and He Tian seized the opportunity to be a little shit. “My first was a breath play demo. Dude got off on being choked out. Busted a load so big –”

He Tian’s drink was deposited with a loud clonk, contents sloshing over the side.

“ _Fuck._ ” Semi Bun hissed, dabbing at the mess with a dishcloth.

“That’s what he said.” He Tian grinned up at their server, who promptly turned a shade similar to the cranberries Guan Shan had been scarfing down earlier. The unsteady hands grew unsteadier.

With a mumbled apology, he stumbled away, almost knocking into one of the other staff members in his haste.

“What the shit?” Guan Shan glowered at He Tian. Fury or fragility flashed in his eyes. He Tian wasn’t sure which. “Were you flirting with him?”

“What? No!” He protested, nonplussed. “He made a pass at you. Practically mimed sucking you off.”

“Like _hell_.” Fury. It was definitely fury.

Their raised voices mustered the interest of nearby customers.

Dammit.

“Guan Shan,” He Tian said on an exhale. “I wasn’t flirting with him. I swear.”

Jaw set, Guan Shan crossed his arms.

He Tian couldn’t tell if that was an unforgiving frown or a petulant pout.

“He hit on you right in front of me. And it pissed me off. I admit I might have got carried away trying to scare him.”

Guan Shan cocked a brow, gazing flickering behind He Tian. “In that case, your scaring tactics need some serious work.”

Looking over his shoulder, He Tian spotted Semi Bun by the outdoor condiment counter. He flushed when he noticed their attention. Smiled that salacious smile, spider bites winking in the sunlight.

“Okay,” He Tian granted. “I miscalculated.”

“No shit.”

He Tian laughed at himself. And Guan Shan shook his head, mouth twitching in amusement.

“Truce?”

Guan Shan hooked his sneakered feet around He Tian’s ankle. Pulled. Squeezed. “Depends.”

He Tian’s mouth went dry at the titillating eagerness illuminating Guan Shan’s eyes.

“I can pay in sexual favours,” he blurted.

And just like that Guan Shan was solemn again, the playful air between them quelled by a clearing of his throat. “So you’ve never… acted out a scene? Like, subbed for someone?”

What? Why were they talking about The Lounge again?

What exactly was Guan Shan hung up on?

“No. Never subbed,” He Tian stressed. “Never dommed.” He let out an exasperated breath; how did he explain that he just… didn’t get it? “I dunno. There's no real depth. No… truth in the sessions. No meaning in them. Or no meaning in them for me.  I think it’s because I can’t relate to that type of relationship, you know?”

“Yeah,” Guan Shan said, subdued. A soft thump under the table. And then a warm barefoot moved up He Tian’s leg, swept into the gap between his thigh and sweat shorts. “How can you expect to relate when you have nothing to relate it to?”

He Tian jolted upright in his seat when tentative toes trailed past his cockhead. Tracing. Teasing.

_Aahhh, fuck._

Despite cumming twice already that morning, his cock stirred against his thigh. Shifted. Started to swell.

But, just as He Tian thought he was going to be taunted and tantalised under the table, Guan Shan withdrew. Sat up a little straighter. Signalled for the cheque.

“Rehearsal,” he said by way of explanation.

“Oh. ’Course.” Trying to be subtle in his attempt to readjust himself, He Tian reconsidered his rejection of the jockstrap. “Can I see you tonight?”

“I, er, I have a thing tonight.”

A thing?

Guan Shan’s cell phone, situated next to the salt and pepper grinders, whirred with a brief buzz.

“I could drop you off, if you like. To your thing.”

Whatever ‘thing’ that was.

“My bike gets me there fine,” Guan Shan assured as his phone buzzed again.

Where was ‘there’?

“Is that the group chat you’ve been ignoring?” He Tian asked, although a part of him already knew it wasn’t his classmates texting.

With a sigh, Guan Shan tapped on his phone. Tsked. Tapped some more. Then finally tossed it to the side.

A further short burst of buzzes jangled their crockery.

“It’s your kid brother,” Guan Shan bit out.

“My what now?”

“He’s still insisting I teach him how to fight.”

He Tian groaned. “Fucking Kae. There’s no way Ria will okay it.”

“What is up with that, anyway? Let the kid do as he fucking well pleases.”

“Nah. She’s like a mama bear with her cub where he’s concerned. Their mom was always so busy single-handedly running the restaurant; Ria had to fend for ’em both. She still does.” He Tian grinned, remembering how Ria had fussed and fumed when she found out He Cheng had taken Kaelin for an unsolicited driving lesson. “Besides, have you _seen_ those eyes?”

Little did Ria know that Kaelin had pleaded and pouted til He Cheng let him take the monster SUV for a spin. His brother had been in the doghouse for a week.

“He’s got troublemaker written all over him.”

He Tian snickered in agreement. “Boy, does he keep her on her toes.”

“I’ll bet,” Guan Shan intoned. A fractional pause. And then his eyes darkened with something He Tian couldn’t name. “He should, though. Learn to fight. Or at least learn to protect himself.”

Guan Shan was right, of course. There were predators round every corner and dipshits under every other rock.

“What if you said you were teaching him to dance?” He suggested, only half convinced they’d be able to pull this off and keep Ria from finding out.

Guan Shan’s scepticism was obvious. “I don’t think I’m the right person to –”

_Zzzzztt._

“I think he disagrees.” He Tian returned Guan Shan’s small scowl with a saintly smile.

“The fuck is that cheque?” Guan Shan griped with an edge of impatience. A swift change of subject.

“I’ll sort it,” He Tian promised. “You get to your rehearsal.”

Guan Shan studied him for a beat. Acquiesced. Grabbed his phone.

Walking round their table, he tugged at the tee He Tian was wearing. Leaned down so that his lips tickled He Tian’s ear – the ear that still tingled from being bitten earlier that day.

Guan Shan’s words were a breathy whisper on a morning breeze.

“You look so damn fuckable in my clothes.”

Well, _shit._

Before He Tian could formulate a response, Guan Shan backed up. Bounded off the patio. Ebbed into the swarm of students scurrying to class.

Semi Bun chose that moment to emerge with the cheque. And, with purpose, proceeded to hint at a threesome.

Subtle, he was not.

He crowded He Tian with undisguised admiration, dropping a handful of dynamic innuendos. The demure demeanour from before had clearly been an act. Those snake bites were blatantly used to getting their way, dazzling many a fella into succumbing to their disreputable suggestions.

Except, of course, He Tian only surrendered to one man.

And Guan Shan didn’t like to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please consider leaving me a comment or a word or even an emoji! They make my day.  
> Love x


	29. Chapter 29

Today 12:45

**You:** asking for a friend

**Jian Yi:** Shoot

**You:** ass play

**Jian Yi:** …

**Jian Yi:** Rule number one

**Jian Yi:** ABC

**You:** what’s that

 

Today 14:10

**Lil Fox:** you promised me berries to go

**You:** s h i t

**You:** but also

**You:** we can’t go back there

**Lil Fox:** why not

**You:** three’s a crowd?

 

Today 15:30

**You:** what’s ABC

**Matthieu:** context

**You:** butts

**Matthieu:** ass = boy cunt

**You:** wtf

**You:** no

**You:** who even says that

**Matthieu:** my bad

**Matthieu:** boy pussy if he special

 

Today 16:00

**Jian Yi:** Google is your friend

 

Today 20:20

**You:** how did your thing go

**Lil Fox:** it was okay

 

Today 21:25

**Jian Yi:** Asking for a friend

**You** : ?

**Jian Yi:** Open Kimono or Panty Pink

**You:** is this lipstick porn again

**Jian Yi:** Yep

**You:** what’s the occasion

**Jian Yi:** Lingerie shopping

**Jian Yi:** With Zheng Xi

**You:** huh

**You:** thought you were asking for a friend

**You:** whichever smudges less

 

Today 22:10

**Matthieu:** ass balls cock

 

Today 22:15

**Matthieu:** the art of butt clenching

 

Today 22:40

**Matthieu:** rim him with the alphabet

 

Today 23:05

**Matthieu:** airway breathing circulation

**Matthieu:** if he passes out mid fuck

 

Today 23:35

**Matthieu:** always be kind

**Matthieu:** but with a c

**Matthieu:** because fuck spelling when you’re balls deep

 

Today 23:50

**Lil Fox:** wdydt

**You:** bought a sexy ass car

**You:** [photo sent]

**You:** [photo sent]

**You:** [photo sent]

**Lil Fox:** nice car

**Lil Fox:** but where is your sexy ass

**You:** you smooth mf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, comments are currency. Please consider donating to my broke ass 😂  
> Also, if you're curious about ZhanYi's little shopping excursion, you might enjoy [I Could Use a Little Mercy.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18200969)  
> Lots of love  
> x


End file.
